


Golden Lion

by daisyisawriter91



Series: Almyran Blue [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: All platonic in the main story, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blue Lions Students (Fire Emblem)-centric, Canon-Typical Violence, Don't trust Claude ever, Family Fluff, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Found Family, Graphic Description, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Scheming Claude von Riegan, it's all lies, no beta we die like Glenn, the Blue Lions are breaking down Claude's emotional walls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 25,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23448508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisyisawriter91/pseuds/daisyisawriter91
Summary: “Claude, yes. He is Ingrid’s cousin on her father’s side, though no one can be sure who the identity of his father is. In all honesty, even I have trouble getting a read on Claude. He’s rather secretive and keeps most of his emotions to himself. But despite this, he would be a valuable ally and a willing student! His tactical genius is second to none, his schemes have unprecedented success.” Dimitri explained.In other words, Claude pulled a few strings to end up in the Blue Lions House instead of Golden Deer.
Relationships: Blue Lions Students & Claude von Riegan
Series: Almyran Blue [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686823
Comments: 18
Kudos: 139





	1. Blue Pride

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is Byleth's POV but after that is Claude's POV! Hope you enjoy and that nobody's too out of character. This is my first time writing for Three Houses.

Byleth had much to consider, walking around Garreg Mach Monastery. She had to admit, she was amazed by the architecture. High ceilings, soaring spires...it was incredible to behold. Not something she saw every day in her life with her father.  
Still, what she found most fascinating were the students.

Black Eagles. Golden Deer. Blue Lions. Three houses. And she would have the immense responsibility of teaching one of these classes.   
But after interacting with a few of the students, not to mention the house leaders, she felt she wouldn’t have much of a problem with such a task. Most were eager to learn, save for the pink haired girl. What was her name, Hilda?

The house leaders, themselves, were fascinating. Edelgard, with her thinly veiled fire. Dimitri, with his careful gestures. And Lorenz, with his brash attitude. Byleth wanted to interact more with all of them.  
She had already spoken with Edelgard about the members of her house, and while intriguing, she wanted to hear about Golden Deer and Blue Lions.

Dimitri answered all of her questions about the Blue Lion house with eagerness and fondness.  
Ashe, the eager. Ingrid, the hardworking. Sylvain, the philanderer. Each student, she was regaled with Dimitri’s special fondness for them.  
There was only one student left to ask about.  
“And what of Claude?” She asked.

Dimitri’s expression turned pensive. He raised a hand to his chin as he spoke, contemplative. Yet somehow, his eyes never lost the spark of fondness, though it was not nearly as obvious as it was when speaking about Ingrid or Sylvain or even Felix.  
“Claude, yes. He is Ingrid’s cousin on her father’s side, though no one can be sure who the identity of his father is. In all honesty, even I have trouble getting a read on Claude. He’s rather secretive and keeps most of his emotions to himself. But despite this, he would be a valuable ally and a willing student! His tactical genius is second to none, his schemes have unprecedented success.” Dimitri explained.  
“Schemes?”  
“That’s what he calls them. His plans are often related to poisons of various sorts, but I assure you, he will not harm anyone unprovoked.”   
Byleth nodded, taking Dimitri’s words into consideration.

“Thank you for your time, Dimitri.”  
“Of course! And I do hope you’re entrusted with the Blue Lion house. Ours is a chaotic house, but it is full of heart. There is never a dull moment, I can promise you that.”  
The soft smile on Dimitri’s face was enough to convince her.  
It was of no surprise to her that, when asked to pick which house she would like to instruct, she chose Blue Lions without a moment of hesitation.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Byleth gathered the students must have already heard the news of her teaching, as they all awaited her when she arrived.

Annette, the excitable orange haired girl, began to exclaim:  
“Wait, does this mean our new professor is--” She shook her head. “No! I really can't believe it! But I was speaking to you so casually, as though we were companions! Oh, I am so sorry, Professor; you just look the same age as the rest of us, and--” She cut herself off.   
“Oh, and I’m sorry I just said that too! I really must watch my tongue…”

“I don’t mind if you treat me as a friend.” Byleth assured. After all, Annette was correct. Byleth was roughly the same age as her students, though she couldn’t pinpoint the exact number.  
“You say that, but...I just don’t know about all this…” Annette trailed off, casting a glance down to her feet.

“I'll admit, it doesn't sit well with me either. After all, we wish to show you due respect.” Dimitri had the same level of apprehension in his voice.

“Oh come on, your princeliness! If Teach says it’s okay, then it’s okay! You need to loosen up some, my friend.” Claude interjected, lazily stretching his arms behind his back.   
“Exactly. If the professor says it’s okay, shouldn’t that be enough? That is, if Your Highness can consent to such a thing. After all, we’re already speaking this way to our future king, so we may as well relax our speech with our professor too, right?” Sylvain added.

It continued on like this, Byleth offering little to the students’ light-hearted bickering. She enjoyed it this way. She didn’t much care for an excess amount of her own words, listening had always been her strong suit. And she had to admit, the bickering was rather endearing.  
She was certain she made the right choice.

Annette and Ashe’s chipper attitudes, Mercedes’s kindness, Sylvain’s easygoing attitude contrasting with Ingrid’s hot-headed nature and Felix’s prickly disposition, Claude’s plotting tones and mischievous eyes, all lead by Dimitri’s stalwart kindness.

Dimitri interrupted her musings by addressing her, directly.  
“Well then, Professor, what do you think? As you can see, the Blue Lion House is a lively bunch, but you’ll find none who work harder. I’m certain we’ll cause our fair share of trouble, but I’m very much looking forward to the year ahead.”  
“As am I. I look forward to working with you all.”  
The smiles that overcame most faces in the room were enough to melt her heart.

There was no other place for her.


	2. Unexpected Camaraderie

Claude had felt like an outcast most of his life. At this point, he was rather used to it. An outcast in his home land, an outcast in Fódlan. It had always been like that, and would always be.

Or...so he thought.

It was strange, his first days at Garreg Mach Monastery. Never before had a group of people gone so out of their way to make him feel like part of the group. Namely, the Blue Lion House.  
Not everyone, of course. But even the one person who was actively rude to him, he had the feeling it wasn’t personal. 

Felix seemed much like a thunderstorm to Claude. Beautiful, heart stoppingly so, but more than a little dangerous and far too tempestuous.  
The rest of the house, however, was intent on welcoming him. They knew he was relatively new to Faerghus and her customs, but they didn’t pry into his past, and instead sought to get to know him as a person.

Annette wouldn’t let up until he told her all of his food preferences while Mercedes pondered what best to bake for everyone.   
Ashe, having observed his technique with the bow, immediately asked to train with him. It didn’t seem to matter to him where Claude had learned those skills. If it did, he didn’t question. Then again, Claude hadn’t questioned where Ashe had learned _his_ skills.  
Plenty of time for questions, later.

Sylvain, though misguided he was, asked Claude to help him woo ladies in town. When Claude refused, he asked if Claude would prefer to pick up men. Claude deflected, but he knew the sentiment behind the offer was kind.   
Ingrid, dear ‘cousin’ Ingrid, had made him feel somewhat welcome. He knew she struggled with the new presence in her life, but she _was_ making somewhat of an effort. Trying a bit too hard, but he could understand her hesitation.

And of course, Dimitri and his vassal, Dedue. Dedue was polite, of course, but they spoke little to one another. Dimitri, however, took it upon himself to speak with his classmates as often as possible. Claude liked him well enough, for not knowing the real Dimitri.  
There was more lurking beneath his false smile and kind eyes. Claude didn’t doubt his kindness was sincere, not even _he_ could fake care to that extent. However, there had to be a reason as to why Felix called him the boar prince. He wouldn’t even use Dimitri’s name.

Claude had so many secrets to unravel in Blue Lion House. Thrill rose in his chest at the thought of uncovering all the mysteries hidden within the people of Garreg Mach.  
But none more thrilling than his very own professor. Oh, he _ached_ to know what she hid behind her calm instructions and passive expression.

He had to remind himself of his patience. It wouldn’t do to lay even one card on the table so early.  
For now, he would quietly earn himself a place in the house and wait.  
He wouldn’t yet admit to budding fondness for them.  
Or, rather, he _couldn’t._ Not even to himself.

The early breezes of spring wafted through the open classroom window. The teacher had yet to arrive, as had a few of the students, leaving Claude to sit at his shared desk.  
Sylvain sat beside him, precariously balancing his chair. Oh, how _easy_ it would be to tip him over…

A bit of fun couldn’t hurt.

Claude subtly reached out his hand and shoved Sylvain backwards with only the slightest of force. It was more of a poke, really.  
Sylvain yelped as he went down, landing with a hard _thud_. From the back of the classroom, Felix snickered. Ingrid let out a hearty sigh. Ashe barked a startled laugh before Claude heard the distinct sound of him slapping his hand over his face.

Annette and Mercedes chose that moment to enter the class.   
“Oh, my! What is Sylvain doing on the floor?” Mercedes asked. Annette’s shoulders were shaking from restrained laughter.  
“This jerk decided to push me,” Sylvain grumbled, clambering to his feet.  
“Don’t teeter so dangerously next time and I won’t have to push you. Really, I’m just teaching you the reality of our dangerous world.” Claude shrugged as he spoke.  
“Yeah, right.” Sylvain grumbled. But something glimmered in his eyes. Something told Claude this wasn’t over. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Soon enough, Dimitri and Dedue entered the classroom, shortly followed by Professor Byleth, who looked as blank as ever. In her hands was a thick stack of papers, which Claude could only assume was a lesson plan.  
“Take your seats, everyone. It is time to begin.” Byleth declared, absolute authority in her voice. It was hard to imagine this was her first time teaching.  
This was bound to be interesting.

~*~*~*~*~

Claude had been assigned skills to work with. Almost as if she knew, Professor Byleth told him to work with axes and flying to become a wyvern rider. It was impossible for her to know how important such a thing would be to him, and yet...she knew.  
Or perhaps it was a coincidence. Perhaps she saw his build and made an executive call from a mercenary’s eyes.  
Still, it was a thread he added to his ever growing tapestry of Blue Lion House.

He had already begun to work on it, at her request and between the lesson and dinner, he was at the training grounds, switching between axes and bows.  
Felix had joined him, saying nothing, only giving sharp nods or none too subtle _tsk_ s. As if he knew the first thing about axes.

Yet still, when he began to trudge away from the training grounds, Felix kept pace beside him, giving him a single, hesitant clap on the back. It was more of a slap, really, and his back still stung.  
But somehow, it made him feel more welcome than anything else the Lions had done.

When they reached the packed dining hall, plates were already set for them, Claude’s own between Sylvain and Annette, across from Ingrid.  
Towards the end of their chosen table were Dimitri and Professor Byleth, engaged in conversation. Ashe and Dedue were nowhere to be seen, yet plates were out for them, as well.  
Four days. It had taken four days for a rapport to develop between them. Four days to understand the base of his relationship with everyone. Though the bonds could yet change and deepen, and of course, it was Claude’s personal mission to discover everyone’s secrets, this easy understanding was...nice.

Familiarity was hard to come by in Claude’s life.  
But as Ashe and Dedue brought out the food they had prepared and everyone lined up to receive their portions, Claude decided something.

He could get used to this. Even if, one day, he knew it had to come crashing down around him.


	3. An Outsider Inside

Claude leapt out of the way as a spell flew through the air. Had it hit, he would have been instantly out of the game.  
An arrow flew by his face, scraping his assailant’s cheek. Ashe had fired with startling accuracy, even in the thick forest.

In the few days Claude had spent training with him, he’d already improved. He was impressed, to say the least.  
The mock battle was in full swing, and it was clear the Lions were winning. It was mostly because of their professor, Claude couldn’t deny.  
But he had to give some credit to himself and his classmates. They were fighting valiantly, with dulled blades and held back magic.

It was a _mock_ battle after all.  
Yet still, Claude felt adrenaline coursing through his veins. As though he were actually fighting for his life.  
He couldn’t die here.

Before him was Sylvain, protecting anyone from getting too close to Claude. Behind was Mercedes, healing the injured.  
The professor’s strategy was working well. Taking on the Golden Deer and the Black Eagles as one, a force of a healer, archer, and brute force working to destroy their opponents.  
Claude would have done something similar, were he in charge.

Claude watched Hubert trudge off the battlefield, dejected. That meant only Edelgard and Professor Manuela were ahead of them.   
Edelgard was imposing, wielding her axe with the authority of a princess.

All thought left Claude’s head.   
She was powerful. She could kill him. He had to attack first.  
He nocked an arrow against his bow and took aim.   
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.   
Release.

The arrow flew through the air, landing in the thick pad above her heart. None of the students would bleed more than a little cut or scrape, that was assured.  
Sylvain charged forward, landing a decisive blow against Professor Manuela. She didn’t even have time to block.

The Black Eagles had been defeated.

“Well done! Fall back and regroup!” Professor Byleth’s shout resonated over the sounds of the ongoing battle with Golden Deer.  
Mercedes was already on her way back, leaving Claude and Sylvain to obey the orders.

“Nice work taking out Edelgard. I was dreading fighting her,” Sylvain commended.  
“You were the one who took out Professor Manuela. Not everybody has the courage to face a teacher.” Claude shot back. Sylvain grimaced.  
“Yeah, I hate fighting girls. But the promise of praise from the professor is more than worth it.”  
“Somehow, I expected exactly that answer. Already predictable, Sylvain.”  
“I’m not out of tricks just yet, trust me.”   
At that, Claude had to raise an eyebrow.  
“Well, I look forward to seeing those tricks in action. Surprise me, sometime,” Claude sent him a wink.  
Sylvain smirked, challenge burning in his eyes. Oh, Claude was going to like Sylvain. 

Sylavin was more a puzzle than he seemed, that, Claude could already tell. Much like himself, his smile never quite reached his eyes. And while the airhead act was cute, and it worked on the countless women he intended to woo, it didn’t work on Claude. There was more beneath the surface, that much was clear. Claude longed to dig it up.

The pair finally reached Byleth and Dimitri in time to see Felix land the final blow of the battle on Professor Hanneman.   
It was over.  
With no losses on their side, the Blue Lions had come out victorious.

And somehow, when it was declared and the shouts of pleasure arose from his classmates, Claude felt pride swell in his chest. He tried to stomp it down, to shove it back down his throat.  
He was rather good at lying to himself. And yet...  
He didn’t turn it away when Mercedes and Annette pulled him into a giant bear hug. He didn’t stop Ashe when he began to ramble about how amazing the experience had been. He didn’t wriggle away when Sylvain slung his arm over Claude’s shoulders.

And he _certainly_ didn’t protest when a feast was proposed. Oh, how Claude loved a good feast, despite how bland certain Fódlan cuisine could be. 

Beside him, he heard Ingrid’s stomach growl at the mention of food. He could only laugh.

He realized, in a crushing instant, he had to be careful. He was growing attached far too quickly.   
He needed to be cautious. Or else he’d get hurt. Pain was something he didn’t care to feel unless it was absolutely necessary.  
It was hard to remember those thoughts when the Professor flashed him a rare smile and congratulated them on their hard work.  
It was going to be difficult to remember what an outsider he truly was in a pride of lions. But he would come to his senses soon enough.

Reality would return to him soon enough. Why shouldn’t he be allowed to enjoy these brief moments before that happened?


	4. Dangerous Games of the Heart

Foolish. Foolish, foolish, foolish, _foolish._  
How could he let things get this far? How could he allow himself to be this fond of people who would only betray him?

There was a hair-thin line between enjoying what was temporary and getting used to something. He had long since passed that line and was practically napping on the side he _didn’t want to be on._  
But at the very least, he had yet to trust any of them with his secrets, even the most mundane of them.

Claude rushed through the halls, books tucked under his arm. He was going to be late for class if he didn’t pick up the pace.  
How much time had passed without his notice? The last thing he remembered, he still had an hour before the Professor’s lecture and Ashe was leaving him in the library to do his research.  
Claude hopped down the stairs and took off running. To his great luck, Professor Byleth was chronically late.  
Claude sped into the classroom, certain he’d just seen papers flying up at his entrance, and took his seat beside Sylvain, nearly falling into him.

“Where were you?” Sylvain teased.  
“Catching up on my beauty sleep. I’m naturally beautiful, of course, but it’s nice to add a lil somethin’ extra.”   
“Somehow, I don’t believe that.”  
“Wise choice, I’m not to be trusted.” 

He wasn’t sure if it was a warning to Sylvain, or a reminder to himself.

Interrupting what was sure to be Sylvain’s next witty remark, Professor Byleth strode in, troubled expression on her face.  
“Good morning, class. I have an announcement before we begin our lessons. We have been assigned our first official mission,”

As one, everyone in the class seemed to wake up from their respective dazes. Even Claude's interest was piqued.  
“We will be routing the bandits in the Red Canyon, Zanado.”  
“Finally, some real action.” Felix grumbled.  
“Take this seriously, Felix.” Ingrid snapped.  
“You mean we’ll get a chance to test our skills? In a...real battle?” Ashe’s voice trembled on the last words.   
“We’ll be alright, Ashe! Me and Annie are here to patch you up if you get hurt!” Mercedes cheered.  
“That’s right!” Annette added.  
“That’s not what I’m worried about…”

Ashe’s solemn remark dampened the mood of the classroom as it settled on everyone individually. It could even be seen etching lines onto Sylvain’s and Mercedes’s faces.  
They would have to kill people, or be killed themselves.

Claude couldn’t take the atmosphere, but he didn’t know how to make it better. He didn’t know how to bring smiles to their faces with ease just yet. But while one could say a great deal many things about Claude, being unprepared was never one of them.  
He had to get practice in being a steadfast leader, even if the title of house leader didn’t belong to him.

“Think about it this way,” Claude began, standing up. He strode over to Ashe and bent over his desk, putting a hand on Ashe’s head. His hair was softer than Claude would have anticipated. “These guys are thugs. Low-lives. They could hurt so many more people, innocent people, if we don’t step in. Think about all the villages that could burn down, how many lives could be taken, that _we_ have the power to stop.”

“Well said, Claude.” Dimitri commended. When Claude turned to meet his eyes, he had a small smile on his face. It was something close to genuine.  
“Indeed. Return to your seat, Claude, the lesson is about to begin.” Professor Byleth commanded.  
“Geez, Teach, just trying to lighten the mood,”

But Claude complied, and without further protest, the lesson commenced.   
He was toying with dangerous emotions, he reflected. Feeling it so keenly when the Lions were upset, not being able to think beyond helping them.  
How had they wormed their way into his heart so quickly?  
This couldn’t be allowed to continue. Or, at the very least, he couldn’t let it show as blatantly as he had.

He wouldn’t get anywhere in life being as open as he wished.


	5. The Stained Red Canyon

The canyon stretched before him like an endless sea of rock, only dropping off into the steep unknown. But one thing especially stood out to Claude about Zanado.

“Why is this called the Red Canyon? I don’t see anything red.” Claude pointed out.  
“Is this really the right time to be focused on that?” Ingrid scolded.  
“Never a wrong time to try unraveling the secrets of the world, dear cousin.”

More lies to coat his tongue with.

“Up ahead!” Ashe warned.  
Claude pulled out his bow and readied an arrow. Everyone around him did similar, pulling out their weapons of choice.

Sylvain, Ingrid, Dimitri, and Dedue clustered around himself, Ashe, Mercedes, and Annette. Loose enough so that they could fire, tight enough to not let anything get through. Protecting the vulnerable from attack.  
Seems they didn’t need the Professor’s instruction on that one. 

“Stay in formation and advance slowly! Felix and I will cut a path!” Professor Byleth ordered.  
“I’m liking you more and more, Professor,” Felix commented, drawing his sword.

Claude nocked his next arrow and fired, trusting his aim. It seemed Ashe had the same idea.  
Their arrows flew in tandem, accompanied by a gust of wind and a ball of fire from Annette and Mercedes.  
He didn’t see where they landed, only heard them. Only heard agonized screams and sickening gurgles.

He’d caused that.  
He was the reason for those awful sounds.  
He couldn’t focus on it, blood rushing to his ears to block out the screams.

“Claude, Dimitri, Annette! Go down through that bridge, we’ll go for a pincer! The rest of you, follow me!” The Professor’s voice broke through the pounding of Claude’s heart.

Claude saw Dimitri break off from the group and charge towards the bridge where a bandit awaited them.  
“CLAUDE!” Annette shouted, pointing to the bandit.  
Claude didn’t need to be told twice. Faster than he thought he could, he readied his arrow and shot it forward. It whizzed by Dimitri’s ear, sinking into the shoulder of the bandit.

Dimitri hopped deftly over the crumpled bandit, sticking his lance clean through the bandit’s body.  
It wasn’t necessary.  
Claude had incapacitated the bandit.  
Why did Dimitri…?

He paid it no mind for the time being. He followed Dimitri’s lead, hopping over once more.  
Soon, he didn’t hear another set of footsteps behind him. His heart stopped.  
Claude turned to find Annette standing, shellshocked, above the bandit’s corpse. Her eyes were widened, hollow.

“Annette! C’mon!”   
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her across the bridge.   
“You could get yourself killed!” He scolded.  
“I-I’m sorry…” She stammered, staring at her feet. His panic softened.  
“C’mon, we’ll go together. Stay behind me, yeah? We’ll go together,”   
He shifted his grip down to her hand and pulled her along behind him, their fingers tangling together.

Foolish, foolish, foolish.

Claude joined Dimitri down the hill in time to see Ingrid get the killing blow against the leader. In a strange way, he was proud. As proud as one could be of death.

They had done it.  
But Claude could tell, from the haunted look in the eyes of his classmates, it wasn’t the moment for celebration. 

He sheathed his bow and brought Annette under one arm, pulling Ashe under the other. He wouldn’t ask himself why he did so. He wouldn’t ask himself why it felt so natural.  
All part of the game, he reminded himself. Earn their trust.

“Good work, everyone. Let’s head back. Lady Rhea will want to hear how we did.” Professor Byleth commented. There was no cheer in her voice, but no sorrow, either. Somehow, it was exactly what everyone needed to hear.

Mercedes looked up from her fervent prayer for the dead, Ashe ferociously scrubbed his eyes with his sleeves, and Annette stared forward, determination in her eyes. Sylvain let out a deep sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It was adequate.” Felix assented.  
“High praise, coming from Mr. Grumpy.” Yet Sylvain beamed. And unlike some of the other smiles Claude had seen on him, his eyes sparkled.  
“I meant the fight, you insufferable idiot.”  
“If Felix won’t say it, I will. You all performed excellently for it being your first battle. For some, that is.” Dimitri commended, though he didn’t light up as joyously as his tone suggested.

There was so much about Dimitri that Claude was simply _dying_ to figure out.

As they made their way back to Garreg Mach, Claude attempted to rouse their spirits, telling them of the food he was going to make for dinner.  
It seemed to appease them somewhat, though the journey back was eerily silent. Claude could barely stand it, but it didn’t feel right to break it just yet.

Without a word, Claude set off for the kitchens, and vowed not to leave until he could make something delicious.   
He maybe didn’t want them knowing everything about him just yet, but it wouldn’t hurt to let this slip.

After all, they deserved some comfort food. Claude knew a thing or two about comfort food.


	6. Comfort

Claude somehow knew he’d find Ashe at the training ground. After Professor Byleth’s morning announcement, Claude didn’t feel right going about his daily business without checking on Ashe.  
They were going to go after Lord Lonato. Ashe’s adoptive father. 

Though the knights said they wouldn’t be doing any fighting, Claude had his reservations. It seems all they did on these missions was fight. He wouldn’t be surprised if things took a drastic turn for the worst.  
Still, he wouldn’t tell Ashe that. After all, the decimated training dummies at his side told a distinct story of what would happen if he did.

Ashe’s fingers were bleeding. Claude could see that even at a distance. It broke his heart.  
“Ashe,” he called out, keeping his voice as gentle as possible.  
Ashe didn’t show any sign of acknowledgement, only loosed another arrow.

Claude sighed and snuck up behind him. If Ashe heard him, he showed no signs of it.   
Claude swiped the arrows from his quiver and backed away, the remaining four arrows clutched in his palm.

Ashe reached into his quiver only to find it empty. It was in turning to check his quiver that he finally set eyes on Claude and let out a yelp.  
He covered his heart with his hand and jumped back.  
“Claude! You scared me!”  
“I think you hit your limit, my friend.”  
“No, I’m fine! I’m not quite ready to leave just yet,” Ashe looked away, then.  
“I’m making an executive call, the dummies have suffered enough. Do they not deserve your mercy?” Claude clutched his heart, dramatically.

Any other day, this would have made Ashe laugh. But it was not any other day.  
Instead, Ashe only looked at his feet, hand trembling around his bow.

“Does Lonato?”

The words were a shock to Claude’s system, although, it really shouldn’t have been. It was heavy on Ashe’s mind.

“Why has he done this? Why wouldn’t he tell me?”  
“I’m gonna tell you a fun fact about nobles, Ashe,” Claude took his hands, blood smearing on his palms.  
“They like to think they’re high and mighty, different from the common folk. But they’re not. They’re just as unpredictable, and just as easily manipulated as everyone else.”

Ashe finally met his eyes. The whites had turned red, making the green of his irises stand out. Tear tracks marred his cheeks.  
“Manipulated? You mean to say this may not be a senseless rebellion on Lonato’s part?”  
“Sharp ears. That’s exactly what I mean to say. Before I formally joined House Galatea, I buried myself in research about Faerghus and the nobility. I read everything I could get my hands on, talked to everyone who would talk to me. And my only conclusion is that someone like Lonato has no reason to rebel, and not enough force behind him if he did. Something doesn’t quite add up.”  
“But if that’s the case...could we prove him innocent?”  
“I’m not so sure that would work in the eyes of the Church. Whether he was coerced into it or not, he’s still done the things the Church doesn’t like.”

Ashe carried the expression of a kicked puppy. Claude went back on his words.  
“But, y’know...Lady Rhea may hear a plea or two from some of her darling students. It couldn’t hurt to try.”

Hope alighted in the depths of his eyes.

“You’re right! Lady Rhea isn’t without mercy, after all. I’ll go at once!”

Ashe began to move past Claude, but Claude grabbed his wrist.  
“Not with bleeding hands, you’re not. Do you want to look like a madman in front of the archbishop?” Claude raised his eyebrows at Ashe, carefully.  
“You’re right. It wouldn’t do to go to her with such an injury. I’ll patch it up right away!”  
“Hang on. I’ll patch you up, we’ll go together. She might not be as willing to hear you out and may think you in on the plot. If I, a noble of house Galatea, whose only affiliation with house Gaspard is the country we serve, were to go with you…”

Ashe’s eyes practically sparkled.  
“You would do that for me? Really?” The hope in his voice was near enough to dissuade Claude from either of them doing it. To have that hope dashed would be devastating. But he couldn’t let Ashe continue on as he was.  
“Of course! The worst that can happen to me is a slap on the wrist. The best, however, could be saving an innocent man from persecution. I don’t see what I have to lose."  
Other than the trust of the archbishop, her advisor, and everyone who worked beneath her. He already had so little faith placed in him, as a clear outsider.   
But seeing the smile that broke out on Ashe’s face made that seem less important. The thought of proving the Church wrong seemed all too tantalizing.  
The Church would think what they would think about him. He would stick to the people who trusted him.

Maybe he was beginning to trust them back. But really, whose business was that?

~*~*~*~*~

It went about as well as could be expected.

Claude and Ashe stood outside the audience chamber door, which was now closed after having been slammed in their faces by Seteth.   
“Yeesh, what’d we do to deserve that?” Claude complained. “I don’t think I like Seteth, if I’m honest with you.”

“This means Lonato is doomed…” Ashe’s voice was muffled. Claude wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to hear that.  
“Not necessarily. It’s a risky scheme, but those are some of my favorite odds.” Claude rested his chin on his hand, thinking it through. He’d have to get Mercedes in on it, but it could be done.  
“What did you have in mind?”  
“I’ll tell you later. It’s too risky, here. Wait until the battlefield. Trust me.”  
A fire began to burn in Ashe’s eyes.

“How do you expect anyone to trust you if you never trust us? Trust goes both ways, Claude!”  
Ashe spun on his heel and stormed away, leaving Claude where he stood, mouth ajar.  
Ashe had noticed, despite the front Claude put up, that he didn’t trust his classmates. It was true, Claude likely deserved that remark.

Yet why did it sting so much watching Ashe storm away? Why did the words sink in like nails?


	7. A Matter of Trust

Claude had been staring at his plate for a long time. There was nothing fascinating about the sausage and potatoes before him, in fact, rather the opposite. It was filling, if a bit bland.  
Would salt kill Fódlinians?

No, he was tossing Ashe’s words around in his head. A surprising outburst from a normally quiet boy. It was enough to shock him out of any and all retorts. He couldn’t be thrown off like that again.  
He did owe them a bit of trust. In past battles, they’d saved his life. He didn’t have to reveal his deepest, darkest secrets, but who knows? Maybe having others know some of his schemes, having backup, wouldn’t be so bad.  
Why was he even thinking like this?

“Claude?”

Claude startled, cursing himself for not noticing, and looked up into the eyes of Mercedes.  
“Is something the matter?” She asked, her tone soft.

Claude straightened his posture, having been hunched for longer than his back enjoyed, and gave her a winning smile.  
“Nah, just need to get some sleep, is all. I didn’t have the greatest night.”

While it wasn’t a lie, he didn’t attempt any trust. But it was Mercedes. Though a volatile ball of magical energy on the battlefield, off the field, she was the kindest and most nurturing person Claude had ever met.  
He sighed, deeply, resigning himself to it.

“Ashe and I got in a bit of a fight. I said something stupid and with the whole Lonato ordeal…”  
Claude kneaded his eyes with his knuckles.   
“I take something I can’t give and expect it to be offered every time.” 

Mercedes sat beside him and tentatively put her hand on his shoulder. He tried not to flinch under the gentle touch.  
“We all have our limits of what we can and cannot give, and that’s okay! But if it’s really important, you have to push yourself every day until you can give as equally as you take. It can start small, as long as you do a little bit more every day!” 

Claude stared into her eyes, then. He searched for any trace of malice or pity or anything.  
But he found nothing. Mercedes had only kindness in her gaze. A gaze that looked so like his mother’s…

No matter their shape or size or color, the eyes of a matronly figure always looked the same.

“Is it something important?” She asked.  
“Vitally. But I’ve never let myself even try to push this limit. Until now, I guess.”

A calculated risk. Parse out a bit of trust, a bit of sensitive information, in return for a lot. Not a maneuver he had to pull often. Or ever, really.  
That was what he reminded himself.

“Well, whatever it is, you’re doing great! Keep at it, and soon you’ll be a master!” Mercedes cheered.  
“Thanks, Mercedes. You’re a good ear.” He gave her a smile. He wondered to himself if it was fake or not.

“I try to be, whenever needed.” Mercedes returned his smile with an unprecedented warmth. Then her mouth morphed into an ‘o’ shape. “I completely forgot! Annie wanted me to help her with something! I have to go, but don’t hesitate to find me if you need me, Claude!”  
With that, Mercedes stood and rushed out of the dining hall, leaving Claude to mull over his thoughts.

Mercedes didn’t have a hidden agenda, Claude realized. Many people in the Blue Lion House had secrets that Claude wished to unearth, but it seemed Mercedes did not. He had the sense he was missing _something_ , but what it was, he couldn’t tell. Nothing that influenced her entire character, it seemed.  
Or perhaps...perhaps it did just that.

Mind alight with new possibilities, Claude finally took another bite of his food. It was cold, but it was food.

Footsteps were approaching him. He made a point not to look like he heard, instead focusing on his meal with renewed fervor. Across the room, he could see Caspar taking his renewed eating pace as a challenge, much to Linhardt’s obvious dismay.

“Food must be pretty good for a refined young man to be tucking into it like it’s his last meal.”   
The voice was sultry, definitely new. Things just got a little more interesting.

Claude looked up once more, this time into purple eyes set in a beautiful face, rimmed with eyeshadow.  
The man before him was a vision. He held himself in a manner befitting royalty, wore a uniform that stuck out like a sore thumb, and had an aura of danger that Claude loved to see.

“Lots of talented chefs in the academy.” Claude agreed, noncommittal. He had a full hand of cards and wasn’t ready to play any just yet.

The man sat on the bench, facing out. He was out of Claude’s range, but close enough to be a threat. He looked fast.  
Perhaps Claude was faster.  
And then it hit him. He’d seen this man before, when he’d gone snooping in places others didn’t want him to be.  
Oh things got even more interesting.  
He would save that card for later.

“Is there something I can help you with, milord?”   
_That_ had the desired effect. The man’s eyebrow twitched, his charming smile faltering just a moment. The easy air in his eyes gave way to a steel edge.  
Claude had found the magic word. It was his lucky day.  
The nonchalant attitude returned to the man’s face, but now Claude could see past it.

“Nothing at present, just meeting the new classmates. Blue Lions, right?” His fingers drummed on the table.  
“That’s right. House pride or whatever I’m supposed to say here. You’re a new student?”  
“In a sense. The insistence of your professor brought me here. Weird one, professor Byleth, but damn convincing when she wants to be.”  
“I take it you’re not easily convinced?” Claude raised a brow in his direction.  
“Depends on what I’m being convinced to do.” A smirk.  
“In that, it seems we’re the same.”  
“Oh really?”

The grin Claude flashed him could only be described as wolfish.

“If you want some tips on how to deal with my dear classmates, I’d be happy to oblige. Some of them are pricklier than others. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”   
“Ah, ah, ah, pretty boy, don’t worry that noble head off for my sake. This rose has thorns.”  
“A rose only stands so much of a chance in a lion’s den.”  
“My, my, I didn’t expect to be threatened in my very own school today! And on my first day, too!”

“You mistake me, rose,” Something in the man’s posture shifted. Unnoticeable to most, but Claude was not most. “A simple word of advice. The Lions are fine, mostly. But as someone who makes it a point to get to know everyone at least a little, there are people here you shouldn’t place your trust in.”  
“It’s a good thing I don’t have much trust to place.”

Claude laughed. It sounded bitter even to his own ears.  
“You’ll do fine.” 

“Name’s Yuri. Professor said I should make nice with her little lion cubs.”   
“Touching nickname. Claude.” Claude held out his hand to shake.

Yuri cast his eyes down at the offered hand. Claude only had a split second to see the challenging glint on his face before Claude’s hand was grabbed and brought to Yuri’s lips.  
“Pleasure to meet you. Looking forward to classes.”

Yuri stood, dropping Claude’s hand, and strode away. Claude watched him walk away, grin never leaving his face.

Monumentally more interesting, indeed.


	8. A Late Night Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I was planning to publish this tomorrow but this is my favorite chapter and I was way too excited not to publish it early. Please enjoy my most in-character interaction yet!

Claude left Professor Hanneman’s office with a bit more pain than when he had entered. His entire back felt raw from the experiments.  
It was worth it, in the end, but he tended to forget that with all of Hanneman’s instruments poking and prodding at him.

“Claude?”  
 _Damn._

Claude turned, fixing a wondrous smile to his face. He was met with Dimitri, clad in loose nightwear, hair disheveled. His eyes were haunted, finally showing Claude what was really going on in that pretty blonde head. At least, a small peak.

“Evening, your princeliness! To what do I owe the honor?” Maybe he could play this off. Maybe he could escape suspicion.  
Judging by the frown on Dimitri’s face, this was not to be.

“What were you doing in Professor Hanneman’s office?” There was an accusation edging in his tone, but he did not voice it just yet.  
“I believe that’s none of your business,”  
“It is when my own house member is out after curfew.”  
“Well why are you out after curfew?” 

Dimitri’s mouth snapped shut and he cast his glance out the window, towards the full moon. The Garland moon hung high in the sky that night, illuminating even the spots light magic didn’t touch.  
“Nightmares. The nightmares are...rather oppressive tonight, I’m afraid. I thought a bit of fresh air would do me well.”  
His hushed tone suggested it was indeed the truth. Dimitri didn’t strike Claude as the type to outrageously lie, nor did he seem the type to be doing anything illicit after dark.  
“I understand.” said Claude. He didn’t feel the need to elaborate. Dimitri would understand his tone.  
“And you still haven’t answered my question.”  
“Persistent, I’ll give you that much,” Claude shook his head. “But I still don’t think I’m gonna tell you.”

A new look of passion overcame Dimitri’s features, and Claude had the distinct feeling he was in for a mighty lecture.  
“Claude, I will remind you that relations with a teacher are not only improper conduct, it is also highly-”  
“Hey, whoa, whoa!” Claude cut off Dimitri’s rising voice. “You think I...with Hanneman? How deviant do you think I am, princey?” 

“My apologies. It is just a bit suspect. You seem sore, as well. I admit, it was presumptuous of me to assume relations, but you cannot blame my assumption. It _does_ add up.”  
“No, believe me, if I was gonna ‘have relations’ with a staff member, I could do better than Hanneman. Could probably bag Seteth if I was persistent enough.”

“Then why were you…?” Dimirti gestured vaguely to the door of Professor Hanneman’s office.   
“Fine, if you really must know, it was Crest research.”  
It wasn’t entirely a lie. The best lies were half-truths, in Claude’s experience. Often the most convincing.

This one, however, clearly needed some work.  
“In the middle of the night?”

Claude was prepared for that question. It seemed to be only the time of night Dimitri had a problem with.  
“I’d planned to be there earlier, but he was out all day. The Golden Deer were giving him a headache today, Hilda and Lorenz got into some sort of argument. From what I hear, they do that so often they don’t even remember their fights. But it was big enough it required their professor’s intervention.”

Dimitri seemed appeased.  
“Ah, I see. That _does_ sound like them. I think the hardest I’ve ever seen Hilda work at something is arguing that she’s right…”

Claude let out a surprised laugh.  
“Stars above, princey, I didn’t think you had it in you!”  
Dimitri blinked, confusion heavy on his face. Claude felt somewhat gratified he was able to wipe the dread off the prince’s face.  
“Had what in me?”  
“The ability to be blunt! And funny, not to mention.”

Dimitri’s blush was evident even in the dim light. It was a good look on him. Not preoccupied with the darkness clearly prying into his mind, fully wrapped up in the moment.  
Why was Claude so _proud_?  
“I-I was stating simple fact!” Dimitri protested, struggling to keep his voice down. Claude chuckled.  
“Don’t be so modest, highness,”  
“R-Regardless, I had no idea you had such an interest in Crests.”  
“Newfound pursuit. Still seeing if it’s for me,” Once again, not entirely wrong.

“I see. I wish you luck in your endeavors. Though I would request you pursue your new interest in the light of day. I can’t imagine what the rumor mill would do to your reputation…” Dimitri looked genuinely concerned.  
“Ah, don’t worry about it, highness, I’ve already got a pretty bad reputation.” Claude sent him a wink. “Since we’re both headed that way, wanna head back together? So you can make sure my reputation doesn’t get damaged any further?” Claude was only teasing for half of his sentiment.  
“Of course. I think both of us could use some sleep. I hear the Professor’s lessons for this moon will be rigorous.”  
Dimitri began walking, Claude easily matching his pace. 

“Really? What source did you hear that from?”  
“Sylvain. Normally, I wouldn’t trust him as a source, but it’s his birthday tomorrow and she took him for tea.”  
“A lady inviting _Sylvain_ to tea? My, my, how the tables have turned.”  
“From the sounds of it, it’s a once a year event, and only for his birthday.”

Claude laughed at that, imagining the look on Sylvain’s face when the Professor asked him for tea of her own volition.  
“Oh, man, Teach must’ve had her hands full.”  
Dimitri did not reply. Claude looked over to find Dimitri smiling.  
“What? Got something on my face?”  
“No, it’s just…” Dimitri trailed off. “Your smile is nice when it reaches your eyes.”

As though someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on Claude, the easy mood he’d attained in speaking with Dimitri vanished, slipping through his fingers like sand.   
“Ah, it seems we’ve reached my dorm. Thank you for walking with me, and dispelling my fears of an illicit affair. Goodnight, Claude.”   
Without another word, Dimitri disappeared into his dorm, door shutting softly behind him. Claude stared at the closed door for a long moment.

Dimitri was more perceptive than Claude gave him credit for. He would have to adjust his assumptions and change his actions accordingly.  
Though, it occurred to him that the dorm he’d entered was not, indeed, Dimitri’s room. If he was correct, it was Ingrid’s.

Claude continued walking down the hall to his own room and gently shut the door, closing him inside to reflect.  
Much to do, the next day. Make amends with Ashe, figure out what all Dimitri knew about him, do something for Sylvain’s birthday…

Wait.

He cared about a birthday?  
Now that he thought about it, he’d celebrated Mercedes’s and Annette’s birthdays in full swing with the rest of the house.

What were the Lions doing to him?


	9. The Unknown Feeling of Belonging

Claude woke up to an envelope slipped under his door. 

The sliding of the paper under the door was what awoke him, but curiously, no set of footsteps accompanied it. Coming or going. Despite being a light sleeper, no approaching feet roused him from sleep.

It was just before dawn, the first golden rays of the sun beginning to paint the sky. Even the earliest risers would just be blearily opening their eyes.  
Claude stepped out of bed, pushing his disheveled hair back from his face. He padded across the floor of his dorm, feet muffled by the blue carpet.

It was a plain looking envelope, his name scrawled in a scratchy, unrefined script. Claude recognized the letters as Ashe’s.  
Claude sat back down on his bed and opened the envelope, eyes scanning a messy letter. There seemed to be no sign of encrypted text.  
 _Claude,_  
 _I’m deeply sorry for acting the way I did. Though the reasons for why I did are countless, there’s no real excuse. If you’ve forgiven me, I hope we can train together sometime today.  
If not, I understand._  
 _Ashe_

Claude sighed at the contents of the letter. It was possible he met someone who was _too_ kind and forgiving.  
Claude quickly dressed and left his room as quietly as possible, headed down to the first floor dorms.

It was ridiculous, putting commoners a floor below the nobles. But he knew in his gut, it was the right call. There were select few nobles who, despite putting on the appearance of care for the commoners, would balk at sleeping in their same row.  
The morning air was brisk and bracing, despite being the Garland Moon. Dew clung to the grass, beginning to glint in the rising sun.

He arrived at Ashe’s door, making no secret of his arrival, and knocked three times. Unsurprisingly, when Ashe opened the door, he showed not a hint of being asleep.  
“Claude?” Ashe asked, confusion plain on his face.  
“Don’t apologize for things you didn’t do.”

Ashe went slackjaw, staring into his eyes with shock.

“Wh-what?” He stammered.  
“You did nothing wrong. Don’t apologize for things you didn’t do. People take advantage of that. Don’t let them.”  
He didn’t mention he could very easily be one of those people.

There were stars in Ashe’s eyes, clearer than when they were in the sky.   
“I’m gonna be at the training grounds until breakfast. Join if you want, or catch up on some sleep. Up to you.”

Without another word, Claude walked away, headed towards his destination. Moments later, he heard the telltale footfalls of Ashe following him. He slowed his pace to allow Ashe to walk beside him.  
He sent a smile Ashe’s way. Ashe reciprocated, however tentatively.  
He would apologize in return, eventually. He wasn’t there just yet.

~*~*~*~*~

Claude waited for Sylvain in the courtyard. Like clockwork, he would be there any moment.  
And sure enough, Claude heard the dejected stride of Sylvain. Even on his birthday, his classmates had no pity.

Claude leaned back in his seat and let out the loudest yawn he could muster, making sure Sylvain heard him.  
“Oh. Hey, Claude!” His tone was false and honeyed. Did these rejections _truly_ hurt him?

A mystery for another day.

“Afternoon, Sylvain. And happy birthday.” Claude inclined his head as something of a bow as he looked to see Sylvain.  
“Ah, thanks. Just any other day, really.” Sylvain muttered. He took a seat across from Claude at the table he’d chosen.  
“Not a fan of birthdays?”

Subtly, wondering if Sylvain would notice given his sudden funk, Claude took out the case he’d carried with him and set it atop the table. Sylvain had turned his attention to the sky and did not seem to see.

“Not really. Birthdays aren’t exactly happy memories for me.”  
“Care to elaborate?”

Claude opened the case and took out the chess board, beginning to set up the pieces. He gave the advantage to Sylvain, setting white pieces up on his side of the board. He deserved a fighting chance, after all. It was his birthday.

“Eh, it’s no big deal. Just another piece of the grand puzzle that is Sylvain,” He regained some of his wry attitude, but Claude wasn’t convinced.  
“Well, I certainly am enjoying putting that puzzle together.” Claude commended.  
That finally made Sylvain look into his eyes, though he seemed not to notice the chessboard.  
“Really? And what have you put together?”  
“That you’re someone who enjoys games, puzzles, anything that gets your brain going. You’re not as dimwitted as you claim, and I find that quite fascinating.”

Sylvain finally looked at the table, down at the board.  
“How do you figure?” He eyed Claude with more suspicion than Claude had ever seen.  
Claude didn’t let it shake him, instead humming, noncommittally.

“A little birdy may have sung a few notes. I don’t make a habit of revealing my sources.”  
“What are you, a black market dealer?” Sylvain snorted at his own suggestion.  
“Maybe I am. You’ll never know.”

Once more, Claude could see the challenge burning in Sylvain.

“Alright, I’ll bite. Any stakes?”  
“Naturally. On the off chance you win, I will do one thing of your choice. Offer any secret, take over any chore, forge any essay. But only one.”  
“High stakes, coming from you. Must be my birthday,” Sylvain smirked at that. “What do you get if you win?”  
Claude pretended to consider.

“Buy me dinner.”  
“As a date?” Was that hope or dread in Sylvain’s voice?  
“As a victory celebration.”  
“That’s cold, Claude. Making a man buy you dinner on his own birthday.”

Claude shrugged, nonchalant, toying with his black king.  
“Don’t lose and you won’t have to.”

“How do you expect me to win against a supposed master tactician?” The edge of taunting was in his tone.  
Claude was correct in singling out Sylvain.  
“Who knows, maybe I’ll go easy on you. Or maybe you’ll reveal one of those tricks you mentioned after the mock battle.”  
“Hm...tempting. I accept. Just don’t ask for a rematch when you’re filling out the essay on advanced reason.”

Fallen right in.

“I can already taste the meal, my friend.”  
“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say friend and almost believed it.”

Sylvain was quicker than Claude gave him credit for. And he played chess better than Claude ever expected.  
But a lifetime of military tactics wasn’t for nothing.  
Claude watched the white king fall with thinly veiled satisfaction. It was far more satisfying than many of his past wins.

Sylvain had almost grabbed the victory, after all.

“Checkmate,”  
“Damn. Guess you’re way better than I am.”  
“Wouldn’t speak too quickly, there, Red. You gave me a run for my money. If you actually paid attention in tactics lessons, you might have won.”  
“Alright, alright, point taken. Maybe I should start taking some of those classes you guys are always talking about,”  
“Just a suggestion,”  
“Maybe I’ll take it. When do you wanna go for dinner?”

Sylvain stood from his seat and held out his hand for Claude to shake. He got a funny little idea from the new student he’d met the previous day.  
He took Sylvain’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. Without even looking, he could tell Sylvain’s face had turned as red as his hair.

“I’m free two days from now. Treat me right, yeah?”  
For once, Sylvain didn’t have a rebuttal.  
“I...will…”  
Claude watched Sylvain walk away with more of a spring in his step than when he’d arrived.

Mission accomplished.

Maybe he’d get him a proper birthday present, after he was done mercilessly taunting him.  
Oddly enough, the entire interaction had felt natural. The entire day had.

Foolish, foolish, foolish, indeed.


	10. Mist

Claude was nervous, but for once, not for himself.

Ashe was shaking. Whether from nerves, anger, or the cold fog that surrounded them, his entire body was in tremors. And due to their weapon choices, Claude marched beside him.

“Hey, Ashe, it’s gonna be okay,”  
“How do you know that?” Ashe looked up at him, eyes already brimming with tears.  
“Because I have an innate understanding of the world and its secrets,”  
It drew a watery laugh from Ashe, and Claude considered it a victory.

Ashe stepped ahead of him and joined up with Mercedes. Claude watched him go with somewhat of a fond smile.  
Anything he could do to lessen the blow of what was to come.

Yuri fell back from the front line to fall into step with Claude, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Whether he realized he was doing it or not, it was certainly a testament to how skilled he was with the blade. Claude was looking forward to seeing him in action.

“So. These are your people.” Yuri began, matter-of-fact.   
“Not really. More a means to an end.” The lies took on the taste of poorly brewed coffee. Bitter and undesirable.  
“Sure, tell that to the glimmer in your eyes. You’re a lot more transparent when it comes to your eyes.” Yuri glanced over at him, a smile creeping at the edges of his painted lips. “You cheered him up. You didn’t have to.”  
“I just wanted to make sure he could fight. Simple as that.” Claude tried to shrug it off, but Yuri was cutting right through him.

Maybe he met his match.

“He could have been at tip-top shape without being cheerful. All you had to do was make sure he could fight. You raised morale.”  
“Maybe I did. A pleasant symptom.”  
“Right. Call it whatever you like, Claude. Can’t argue too much with that pretty face of yours.”   
“Seems you’ve run out of arguments, anyways. Flattery gets you nowhere with me.”

Yuri shrugged, a coy slant to his shoulders. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”  
“Valiant effort. And I certainly wouldn’t mind another.”  
Yuri eyed Claude before rejoining the group ahead. Claude let a smile slip onto his face.

His people. He liked the sound of that.

Ahead, his classmates buzzed with excitement at the idea that a Hero’s Relic was in their midst. It seemed out of place, in lieu of Ashe’s anguish.  
But he had to admit, he himself was thrilled. The chance to study a Relic...it was so tantalizingly close.

Yet he couldn’t. He still had people to look out for.  
Yuri’s words rang around in his head, taunting him with the odd fondness of the tone. He spoke like someone who had his own people.

Another thread in the tapestry.

Claude thought he caught a glimpse of Thunderbrand, shining through the fog like a beacon. A beacon that was sorely needed, given he could barely see his own hand in the mist.  
Everyone disappeared into the mist, sticking close together in whatever conversation they were embroiled in. Claude, who had offered to watch the flank, was left behind.

Something dark and urgent sunk into his stomach. He could no longer hear his housemates’ voices.  
Fog wasn’t supposed to swallow sound in such a way. 

The spell was difficult to learn, difficult to cast, and even more difficult to sustain. This was no ordinary fog.  
He had experienced it before. A distant memory clawing at his mind, demanding to be recalled. It was neither the time nor place for buried memories to be unearthed.

Slowly, Claude rested his hand on the sword at his side. He never knew when a bow wouldn’t be an option. He was suddenly unendingly grateful for his paranoia, and his insistence on sword training with Felix.  
He could attempt to shout for the others, but they wouldn’t hear him. The only ones who would hear him would be the enemy. It wouldn’t do to let them know he’d figured them out.

Instead, he walked forward, keeping an even pace. He molded his face into the perfect mask of nonchalance; his stride was easy. Meanwhile, his ears strained, his fingers twitched on the hilt of his sword.  
A branch broke.

_Found one._

Claude drew his sword and raised it in time to block a swing. It would have split his skull.  
The face he looked into was angry. Revenge brewed in their eyes. 

Though he hated killing, it seemed these soldiers weren’t out for peace. And Claude had a lot left to do that dying as a pacifist wouldn’t accomplish.  
Claude sent the soldier backwards, using their moment of weakness to slice an exposed area. With an anguished cry, they went down.

Blood splattered onto his face and clothes. He’d cut an artery. How pleasant.  
If he hadn’t attracted attention before.

Claude ran through the fog, intent on catching up with his housemates. An arrow flew in front of his nose, barely missing him.  
It was him and a volley of arrows for what seemed like miles. Just barely missing getting shot, refraining from crying out when an arrow embedded itself in his left arm.  
Mercedes could heal it. He just had to reach her.

Finally, he saw something. Two heads of red hair, one significantly shorter than the other. His heart cried out in relief.  
“Annette! Sylvain!” Claude shouted.

It was enough to stop them in their tracks. Claude didn’t let them speak.  
“We have a problem,”

Panic flashed on Annette’s face. Sylvain’s jaw set.   
“Claude! What happened?! Why is there an arrow in your arm?!” Annette screeched. So much for not drawing attention.  
“That would be the problem.” Claude retorted.

Sylvain wasted no time in pulling out his lance. Annette’s hands began to crackle with energy.  
“We gotta find the source of this fog,” 

Claude fell into formation with the pair of them, sword still grasped in his hand. The arrow had rendered his bow arm useless for the time being.  
Sylvain snorted.  
“Right, we’re gonna go kill water and air!”

“It’s magical fog,” Annette supplied, sending a gust of wind. It cleared away some of the fog.  
“Oh. Oh! I remember reading about that, I didn’t know anyone actually did that.”  
“Well, they do.” Claude’s eyes scanned the path Annette had cleared.

More awaiting, shrouded in the mist.  
“We have to find the caster.”  
“No, _we_ have to find the caster, _you _have to find Mercedes.” Sylvain interrupted Claude’s forming plan.  
“I will! Later. When I can actually see her. Otherwise I’m just going to be fumbling through the fog and more likely to get myself killed before she has a chance to heal me.”  
“He has a point, Sylvain.” __

__Sylvain let out a frustrated grunt._ _

__“Fine, but you let me and Annette take point, yeah?”  
“Whatever will get you to stop wasting time and start finding the caster.” _ _

__Sylvain set off in the path Annette had carved, already being covered over. Claude trailed after him, Annette at Claude’s side.  
“I can patch you up in the meantime! The Professor has had me learning healing magic!” Annette offered.  
“At least get the arrow out of my arm, please.”  
“Can do!”_ _

__Claude stuck out his arm. Annette braced one hand on his elbow as she yanked the arrow out.  
Claude bit down on the inside of his cheek. Blood seeped into his mouth from the wound his teeth had left._ _

__Soon enough, the pain eased as cool magic entered his wound, knitting enough back together for him to move.  
“I wouldn’t use your bow just yet, but you won’t bleed out.” Annette added.  
“I owe you one.”_ _

__Claude readjusted his grip on his sword, keeping his ears open for unwelcome sounds. He saw Sylvain casting occasional glances back to the pair of them. Checking on them.  
Claude gazed around Sylvain. Ahead, he could just see a darkened silhouette._ _

__“I’m guessing that’s our guy.” Claude murmured to Annette.  
“I’ll draw his attention.”_ _

__‘Drawing his attention’ clearly meant sending a ball of fire crashing into him, just barely missing Sylvain. Sylvain yelped and leapt out of the way, tumbling to the ground.  
“Sorry!” Annette shouted._ _

__Claude charged forward, slashing through the opponent. It was difficult to cut through humans. But he decided it would be worse if it was easy.  
Almost as though it had never been there at all, the fog lifted._ _

__Across the field, Claude could see his classmates and Teach, fighting valiantly.  
Ahead, astride a horse, was who Claude assumed was Lonato. Facing his own son and his classmates in a fruitless battle._ _

__He didn’t have long to observe, however._ _

__He heard the telltale sound of an arrow firing, clearer than any other sound in the battle. The arrow was headed straight towards Annette. She didn’t notice.  
There was no thought. Not a word entered into Claude’s mind as he leapt forward.  
Annette went to the ground. Claude was attempting to follow her when he felt it._ _

__Metal through flesh._ _

__Claude tumbled to the ground. Blood filled his mouth. His head knocked against something.  
The pain didn’t even set in, at first. He just knew there was something inside him and he _had to get it out.__ _

__Annette’s face appeared above his. Her words were coming through water. He couldn’t make a single one out.  
There was still a battle going on.  
Claude couldn’t die here._ _

__He tried to sit up, clutching the wound in his stomach. The arrow fired at Annette was lodged in his stomach.  
He could yank it out. At best, he’d bleed out. At worst, the arrowhead would get stuck._ _

__He would fight with it in._ _

__Yet all at once, pain erupted through his body. He cried out, curling in on himself. Searing, ripping pain rested in his stomach.  
Annette pushed Claude back to the ground and very clearly, even with his suddenly blurring vision, mouthed: “I’m sorry.”_ _

__Before he could reply, darkness closed in on him, enveloping him in its warm embrace.  
He did not think a thing, at all._ _


	11. Rest and Recovery

Sunlight clawed at his eyes like a particularly abrasive cat. It ached even through the protection of his eyelids.  
Claude peaked into the room, eyelashes mostly obstructing his gaze. The sun hurt even more, his pulse near bursting behind his eyes.

He was in the infirmary, that much he could surmise. And he wasn’t alone. In fact, the entire room was full.  
Seemed Professor Manuela couldn’t keep his pride away from him.

Carefully, so as not to disturb one of the sleeping Lions or his own wounds, Claude sat up and looked carefully at his housemates.

Annette was asleep with her head on his bed, slumped over on her chair. Mercedes sat in a chair beside her, leaning against the final chair occupant, Teach.  
On the bed to his left, Sylvain slept with his arms around both Ingrid and Felix. He guessed the hold Sylvain had on Felix was to make sure Felix didn’t leave.  
On the bed to his right was Dimitri, ungracefully flopped over Ashe, who had curled into a ball in his sleep.

The only ones he couldn’t find were Yuri and Dedue. Neither he expected to see.  
He hadn’t been expecting any of them to be there. Certainly not asleep. Had they waited all night?

Claude took this moment of peace before the inevitable mob of questions to examine himself.  
Bandages were wrapped tightly around his stomach and left arm. A quick touch to his forehead showed it to be in a similar state.  
He’d really gotten banged up.

Claude reached out to gently touch Annette’s hair. She seemed to be unharmed. He was glad his sacrifice hadn’t gone to waste.

Interrupting his contemplation, Dedue walked gently into the room, somehow managing to silence his heavy gait. In his hand was a plate of food. Claude’s stomach growled at the sight, before the smell could even reach his nose.  
Dedue gave a slight inclination of his head.

“I see you are awake.” He commented. His voice was low enough not to disturb anyone sleeping.  
“I am. I didn’t expect to wake up surrounded by the entire house.” Claude matched his volume carefully.   
“They watched over you all night. You were feverish from a poisoned arrow.”  
“That arrow was poisonous? Damn. Good thing I took it instead of Annette.” He didn’t elaborate on his foolish comment, and Dedue didn’t ask him to. Simply handed over the plate. “Thanks.”  
Dedue shook his head. “Think nothing of it.”

Claude dug into the offered food, savoring the taste. Someone had bothered to add spice and in that moment, he could have kissed them.  
“I must attend to other duties. Rest well.” Dedue bowed before leaving the room. Leaving Claude with a room full of his sleeping classmates.

It was a perfect time to observe them.

Ashe was guarded in his sleep, waiting for an attack from all angles. Dimitri looked as though this was the first decent sleep he’d had in years.  
Sylvain, Ingrid, and Annette slept like the dead, whereas Felix twitched, obviously hearing something, but not enough to wake him.   
Teach and Mercedes were perhaps the most peaceful, scenically arched into each other.  
Claude couldn’t suppress a smile.  
It was _just_ like them. He couldn’t be sure where the joy he felt from that knowledge sprung from.

However, the moment was soon to be shattered.

Professor Manuela strode in, banging a wooden spoon against a skillet. It was an assault to Claude’s head, but given that everyone awoke as one, she clearly accomplished her goal.

Annette fell out of her chair with a yelp, Felix instinctually reached for his sword, Sylvain groaned, Ashe covered his ears with his hands, and everyone else simply startled.

“Professor Manuela!” Dimitri cried, scrambling to get off of Ashe.  
“It’s quite touching that you kids wanted to stay with your classmate, but now that he’s awake, I’d like to examine him privately. Everyone out. You can be back later to check on him, hopefully in smaller groups.” Manuela ordered.

Felix stood and met Claude’s eyes. Felix had a way of staring that made Claude feel as though he were currently in the midst of battle.  
“Don’t do that again. It was rather annoying being forced to watch over you like a nursemaid.” And with that, he strode out.  
“I didn’t know Felix cared.” Claude supposed.

“He did say something you should take to heart. It was valiant, yes, but please, do not give us such a fright in the future.” Dimitri fretted.  
“Why of course, your princeliness! I’m not sure what impression you have of me, but I don’t exactly like having arrows embedded in me.”  
Dimitri shook his head with an, admittedly fond, amused smile, and left with Teach. She gave him a nod on her way out, a matching small smile on her face.

“I’m glad you’re okay! We were all really worried, even Felix!” Mercedes was already halfway out the door as she said the words.  
Sylvain clapped his shoulder. Though a smile was on his face when Claude looked at him, it didn’t reach his eyes. Instead, concern weighed heavily.  
“Glad you’re okay, buddy.”  
“Was there any doubt I would be?”  
“Yeah, actually.”  
Claude made note of the words, watching Sylvain leave, followed by Ashe, who said:  
“Get better soon, Claude!”

That left Annette and Ingrid.  
“I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you. You...you saved my life and almost lost yours.” Annette glanced at her hands as she spoke, wringing them with the fabric of her skirt.  
“Don’t worry about it, Annette. We’re both alive, and that’s what matters.” Claude shrugged.  
Tears welled in Annette’s eyes. She ran out of the room like she’d been struck.

“Did I say something wrong?” Claude blinked after her.  
“You were really feverish. There were times when…” Ingrid couldn’t meet his eyes. “When we thought you wouldn’t make it.”  
“But I did. It’ll take more than an arrow to bring me down, dear cousin.”

Anger flashed in Ingrid’s eyes.

“You did something really reckless! Promise me you’ll never do that again! Not if you don’t have a plan!”  
“You’re encouraging my schemes?”  
“Just. Promise me.”

Claude held up his hands, placatingly. “Fine, fine, I relent. I promise you I won’t do anything that reckless again.”  
“Good. But...thank you. For saving Annette.”  
Ingrid left the room with a smile and a hand on his uninjured arm.

“How cute! You’re really fitting in with the Blue Lions, aren’t you, Claude?” Professor Manuela sat beside him and began touching his forehead.  
“I guess so.”  
“No need to be so closed off, dear, it’s plain to see. They simply adore you! I tried to usher them out in the midst of your fever, but they wouldn’t listen. Even your professor refused to listen, insisting that they had to look after you.”  
“I can’t believe they stayed that long.” Claude rubbed his eyes, trying to soothe the ache in his head.

“They wouldn’t leave. Felix kept insisting you couldn’t die before he outshot you.”  
Claude scoffed. “He needs to keep dreaming.”   
Manuela pinched Claude’s cheek.

“I can’t find anything else wrong with you, so my only orders are bedrest, no more fighting for the rest of the moon.”  
Something hot burned in Claude’s chest.  
“Meaning I’ll have to sit out this moon’s mission?” His words were far more forceful than he expected them to be.  
“Sorry, kiddo. You’ll still get to go to class, just no training and no mission.”

Claude groaned, looking towards the ceiling. “C’mon, Professor, that’s brutal.”  
Manuela’s expression was stern. “Physician’s orders.”  
“Fine. Rest. Order taken.” 

Manuela smiled, patted his shoulder, and stood.  
“I’m sure you won’t be alone long. They’re all quite ready to come back, I’m sure.”  
Manuela strode out of the room, leaving Claude alone in the infirmary.  
He blew out a deep breath.

He was confined to the room, confined to bandages, simply _trapped_. His legs itched to run to the library, his fingers itched to hold a bow.  
But he would have to wait until he could leave the infirmary. It would be more trouble than it was worth to try and break out.

He would find his way around it. Otherwise, he would go insane.


	12. Chess Matches

Yuri was the first transfer student, though what class he was from was still a mystery Claude had yet to uncover.   
But he was not the last, as Claude was quick to discover.

First was Raphael, who thought he could use Dedue and Dimitri as training to grow much stronger.  
Next was Dorothea, who made not-so-subtle doe eyes at Teach. She sat on Claude’s other side, batting her eyelashes whenever the professor looked her way. Claude had to admit, it was entertaining to watch.  
Then there was Constance and Hapi. They came in a pair, almost always, Hapi escorting a timid girl into the classroom who near immediately turned into a boisterous noble. They would be fascinating to learn about.

The most recent addition was Linhardt, lured by the promise of the professor’s knowledge, skilled sorcerers, and skilled tacticians. He was good to talk to, decent to study with if he could bother to.  
Which was both lucky and unlucky for Claude, who had been assigned as Linhardt’s partner for the next project.

For some reason, Teach wanted the entire class to hone their reason skills. Annette, Mercedes, Dorothea, and Linhardt were all quite skilled in it. The rest of the class...the same could not be said about them.  
Claude was among those magically inept. So inept that he’d been paired with an easy passing grade.

Or so he thought, before he properly met Linhardt.

Linhardt was unbearably lazy. Not in the sense of Hilda, who had no desire to learn and improve. He could tolerate that for the amount of time he spoke to Hilda.   
No, Linhardt had the desire to learn. He had the desire to absorb knowledge, much the same as Claude. But he couldn’t stop sleeping.  
It was near a disorder. Perhaps, for the good of his studies, he should speak with Manuela about such a disorder. After all, he saw her often enough these days.

The bandages were still wrapped around his head and stomach, though the one on his arm was gone. Still, whenever most of his classmates looked at him, their gazes were drawn to the bandages around his head.  
He’d had to beg Annette to stop thanking him. The only ones who seemed to be returning to normalcy were Felix and Dedue. Ashe, well...Ashe he couldn’t blame.  
Claude had caught him in the chapel several times, feverishly praying.

He’d had a scheme. And he had to throw it all away by jumping in front of an arrow. He’d even meant to dodge it, himself.  
Yet, when he looked at Annette’s face, he didn’t mind as much. Lonato had been the one to attack them. Annette was a simple student.

“So you’re telling me,” Claude began. He moved his queen forward one space. “That there was an order of assassination just...on Lonato?”  
“That’s about the size of it,” Sylvain replied, taking one of Claude’s pawns. Falling into his trap, it seemed.

Claude wasn’t entirely sure when chess matches between the two had become a regular occurrence, but it indeed had. Sylvain was improving with every game, and Claude could say the same about himself.

“That doesn’t make any sense. You don’t just carry around assassination orders. You burn them immediately.”  
“Why do you know that?”  
“You think I haven’t been on the receiving end of a few assassination attempts?”  
“No, honestly. I sort of figured you were a commoner before you found your Crest.”

Damn his mouth. Sylvain was quickly slipping behind Claude’s defenses. Still, he could recover.

“What can I say? People tend not to like me.”   
“I can’t imagine why…”

Sarcasm was a surprisingly good look on Sylvain.

“Point is, it doesn’t make a lot of sense. None at all, in fact. Something’s not right. They wanted us to panic, to scramble to protect the archbishop. They’re distracting us from something. But what?”  
“You want my guess?”  
“If you’re willing to give it.”  
“There are things to be stolen here. Loads of things, I’m sure. The Church tends to have a lot of secrets. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone caught whiff of one and wanted to clear the path to getting it.”

“So our actual mission for this moon should be cluttering their path.” Claude leaned back in his seat, impressed. “No one gives you enough credit, Gautier. Oh, checkmate.”  
Sylvain slumped in his chair, thoroughly defeated. “Damn. How many wins is that?”  
“Too many to count. One of these days, you’ll win. I’m sure of it.”

Claude began resetting the pieces as Sylvain stood, stretching out his limbs.  
“I’ll go tell the others about our brilliant deductions. Don’t wait up, I have a date.” Sylvain winked.  
“I’m surprised girls still agree to go out with you, after all the heartbreaking you’ve done.”  
“What can I say? People tend to like me,”

Sylvain spun on his heel and strode off, likely to rearrange the order of his operations. It seemed vital information was not nearly as important as seducing a village girl.  
Claude would get up to tell them. Even if he couldn’t join in the mission, he could make sure they had the correct mission.

He was about to do just that when Linhardt took Sylvain’s seat without even asking. If he cared that it could have belonged to someone, it didn’t show.  
“Care for another round?” He asked, lightly. “I think I would fall asleep if we talked about our assignment without something else to occupy my brain.”  
Claude settled back and smirked.  
“It’s your fault if you don’t win because you’re distracted.”  
“I work better if I split my focus.” 

Without further ado, Linhardt moved his first pawn. The entire thing seemed to bore him.

“What do you know about black and white magic?”  
Claude matched Linhardt’s first move exactly.

“A fair amount. I think I’ll be better with black, though. Reason and logic, those I’m good at. Faith, not so much.”   
He could have laughed at the idea of himself as a priest, or even a devout follower of the Church. He very nearly did.

“Oh? Why is that?”  
Another pawn forward.

“If we’re being honest, here, I’m not the biggest believer in the goddess of Fódlan.”  
“Careful, now. Around here, that talk is heresy.”

“I’m well aware. But I believe the world is far, _far_ too wide for only one goddess to be true. There are beliefs out there that the people of Fódlan have never even heard of, and people out there who have never heard the goddess’s name. I can’t place all my bets on one goddess when the world is still out there, waiting to be explored.” Claude moved his second knight.  
“And even if she is real, who can say she’s the only deity? She’s only the goddess of Fódlan, not the world.” He shook his head at his own thoughts. Why he was sharing so much with someone who just days ago had been a rival, he would never know.

Linhardt had a presence that made a person want to confide in him. Claude envied that disposition. He had to weasel information out, while all Linhardt had to do was simply wait.

“It’s too limiting to believe in just one. Until I see proof, I can’t call myself a believer.”  
One of the white knights matched Claude’s move.

“I never thought I would meet someone who felt the same.” Unless Claude was mistaking it, he could have sworn he saw a glimmer in Linhardt’s eyes.  
“That would be like Mercedes saying she doesn’t believe in a higher power. Your faith is incredibly strong. So how can that be?”

Another move. Another match.

“Faith comes in more forms than religious. I have faith that the sun will rise every morning and set every evening. I have faith that Caspar will give me a headache and the professor will have a blank look in her eyes. I have faith in my own knowledge and abilities. Just because I don’t necessarily believe in the Fódlan goddess doesn’t mean I have no belief at all. It simply lies in things I can prove.”

Claude allowed the moving of chess pieces to fill the following silence. But one question still burned on his tongue.

“Why did you join the Blue Lions?”  
Linhardt glanced up from the board, meeting Claude’s eyes for the first time since the game had begun.  
“Because it seemed more my style. I wanted a chance to observe the professor, and the rest of you.”

It was a lie. Linhardt was better at hiding it than Annette or Felix, but Claude could still see right through him.

“Is that what you want me to believe? Or is that what you want yourself to believe?”

A feather falling to the ground would have caught Claude’s ears. Nothing dared to even breathe.

“Something bad is happening in our princess’s mind. I couldn’t say what, as I haven’t the faintest idea, myself. But she’s...different. Something is very wrong with Edelgard, and I’d rather not be around when it comes to light.”

“Self-preservation. We could use that in Blue Lions. Don’t have a lot of it going around, I’m afraid.” Claude made his second to last move. Given how well Linhardt had played, one move would be either win or lose.  
How he _loved_ games like that.

“Didn’t you jump in front of an arrow to save a classmate?”  
Claude snickered. “I didn’t say I had any of it. They’ve made me one of them.”  
“Goddess, I hope I don’t follow the same path.”  
“You will. Give it some time.”

Linhardt made his mistake. Claude made his final move, allowing a mostly neutral smile to slip onto his face.  
“Checkmate.”


	13. An Off Day

Something was off.

Claude couldn’t quite pinpoint _what_ precisely it was, but he could feel it the moment he awoke.

He tried to convince himself it was nothing. Perhaps he’d eaten something bad before bed? Or heard Lorenz singing in the middle of the night but he’d been too tired to remember?  
But as soon as he left the safety of his room, the feeling only got stronger.

He and Ingrid rose at similar times so they often walked to breakfast together. Ingrid usually waited at the end of the hall for him, or he for her.  
She wasn’t awaiting him. He waited for a few moments of sheer boredom before knocking on her door. 

There was no answer.  
Naturally, he continued to knock.

“IIIIIIIIIIIIIngrid pay attention to your cousin,” Claude whined, surely waking up Ingrid’s drowsy neighbors.  
Down the hall, Claude could hear a door open, Sylvain’s near-drunken gait quickly following. He appeared to be barely awake, stumbling about as though intoxicated.

“Sylvain!” Claude called. Sylvain turned his head to Claude, his body catching up half a second later.  
“Morning, Claude,” He let out a yawn around the sentence. “How can I help you?”  
“Do you know where Ingrid is? I think she might be dead but that’s just a working theory.” Claude stepped away from Ingrid’s unresponsive door to face Sylvain.

Something stirred in Sylvain’s eyes, something that drove away some of the drowsiness.  
“Sorry, I don’t know. Might be some weight to that dead thing. I’ll check inside her room.”  
“Well, I can do that, I annoyed her out of bed enough times back in Faerghus.” 

“No!” Sylvain blurted. Claude startled, taking a step back. “Let me. She’ll, ah, throw pillows with enough force to open your wounds. I can take it.”  
Claude raised a brow, leaning against the doorframe. He crossed his arms over his chest, inclining his head in the direction of the door.  
“Be my guest.”

The next odd thing of the morning was that Sylvain didn’t prepare for entering Ingrid’s room. There was no deep breath, no look of apprehension.  
He simply opened the door and poked his head in. After a moment of searching, Sylvain returned to the world outside and shut the door.

“Not in there. Her bed’s been made, so she’s definitely not been in there for a while.” Sylvain reported.  
“Huh. Thanks for the, admittedly weird, help, Sylvain.”

Sylvain was already leaving the hall, using his absurdly long stride to be out of Claude’s reach.

 _Definitely_ off.  
“O...kay.” Claude mumbled to himself.

Regardless, Claude continued on his way downstairs to the dining hall. No matter the oddness of circumstances, he still needed breakfast.  
Things only got weirder as he approached the dining hall. Felix fell into step with him, refusing to make conversation. The silence was not unusual, only that he bothered to walk exactly the same pace as Claude.  
Claude liked to take his time, Felix walked briskly, always having a purpose and very little tolerance for people stopping him.  
“Felix?”  
“What?”  
“What’s going on, today?” 

Felix glared right into his eyes. He showed no hints of hiding anything, but it was Felix. If Felix acted even remotely friendly, something was off.  
“Stop asking stupid questions.”  
“Is it really stupid? Something is weird. Even _you’re_ being weird. You’re always weird, but not in this way.”

Felix scoffed, turning his glance ahead. “If you spent more time training instead of making accusations, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten shot.”  
“Those two things don’t even go together.”

“Regardless. I’ve made up a training regimen that will go easy on your injuries, it’s been approved by Professor Manuela. I thought it might be a challenge to find a different way to fight. But it would be a waste if you decided you weren’t up to the challenge.”  
Claude stopped, holding Felix’s shoulder. Felix glared at his hand but, surprisingly, didn’t shake it off.  
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever offered to me.”   
“Be there, after class. If you’re late, I won’t have mercy.” 

Felix finally shook off his hand and _tsk_ ed, returning to his brisk pace. Claude chuckled to himself, watching Felix disappear into the dining hall.

“Huh. How about that. What is it, my birthday?”  
His heart dropped into his stomach.   
“It’s my birthday,”

Who knew? Who _told_? His birthday wasn’t something he gave out often. In fact, very rarely did people even know his age, let alone his date of birth.  
Who found out? And _how_?

Claude took a deep breath before he entered the dining hall.  
Nothing was amiss. Yet everything was. He eyed each of his classmates with suspicion as he went to join the line for lunch.  
“Claude?”  
Claude nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Dedue!” He yelped, wheeling around on the much, much taller man. He drew attention to himself, he knew. Normally, he wouldn’t be so reckless. But today was not a normal day. “You could be an assassin!”  
“My apologies. Are you well, Claude?” A hint of concern rested in his otherwise impassive gaze. Claude didn’t even know Dedue cared.  
“Perfectly fine. Do you happen to know what today is?”

Dedue’s brows furrowed in thought. “It is the 24th day of the Blue Sea Moon. Is something going on I should know about?”  
“No, nothing of the sort. I hope, at least. Thank you, Dedue.”  
With a slight nod, Dedue walked away, leaving Claude to fetch his breakfast. All seemed to be well for a moment.

And then he turned back to meet Annette’s eyes, only to have her scurry away like she’d been caught. His eyes narrowed.  
He sat down his plate a bit too harshly, startling Mercedes and Ingrid, who waited for him at a table.

“My goodness, Claude! What’s got you in such a bad mood?” Mercedes asked.  
“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” It was a lie, but one he didn’t feel so bad about telling. It was obvious neither of the girls believed him, but his tone told them not to press.

“What do you have planned for today?” Mercedes asked. An innocuous question, but Claude tensed, all the same. He hoped they didn’t notice.  
“I believe a sparring match with Felix.”  
Ingrid’s gaze was stern.  
“Professor Manuela said no more training for the rest of the moon.”  
“Felix said he cleared the regimen with her. It was a surprising display of empathy from the man who I associate with cacti and particularly aggressive cats.” Claude’s shoulders loosened, slightly, being able to talk about how strange the offer was.

Mercedes stifled a giggle into her hand. Ingrid rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her amusement.  
“If the professor says it’s okay, I won’t say anything more. Other than,” Ingrid leaned in, conspiratorially. “Knock him down a peg.”

At that, Claude grinned.  
“Oh, cousin, you have my word.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Though he never thought he would feel it, Claude was overwhelmingly grateful to Felix. His stamina was already draining quicker than normal. He needed to get back into shape.  
Yet, still, he held his own against Felix. He didn’t seem likely to win, even when Felix was getting used to a new technique. But keeping pace for a time was good enough for him.

“Another round,” Felix discarded his broken sword.  
“You are _unforgiving_ , Fraldarius.” Claude propped his arms on his knees, observing the way Felix tested his new blade.  
“Any warrior worth their salt isn’t forgiving,” Felix agreed, nonchalant. Yet the words stuck out to Claude.

“I don’t think that’s true. Even if it is kill or be killed out there, it’s not wrong to feel something after killing someone.”  
“Feelings are of little consequence to me.” Yet his tone did not hold the same malice. It seemed to always hold malice, but less so than usual.

He even held out his hand to help Claude up. Claude took the offered help, coming to his feet. Felix’s hand was calloused, much like his own.  
“You fight well enough, even for being injured. Your skills are unlike those I’ve ever seen.”  
Claude shrugged, using it as an excuse to work out a kink in his shoulder. “You flatter me.”  
“I do not needlessly flatter. And I’m serious. Where did you learn to fight like that?”

Time ceased to flow.   
He never had a convincing answer when it came to his origins. He simply hoped that half the truth would suffice.

“My father.”  
If Felix had been about to say something, the words died when he laid eyes on something behind Claude.  
When Claude turned to follow his gaze, he found nothing noteworthy.

“That’s enough for today. You’re valuable in battle, it wouldn’t do to keep you bedridden longer than necessary by opening your wounds.”  
Claude squinted, accusingly, at Felix. But Felix made no sign of letting up.  
“Okay. Thank you for the training.” Claude kept his tone curt. Felix nodded, turning his seemingly limitless aggression onto a poor, defenseless dummy.

Claude made the trek through the grounds. Despite it only just being sundown, Claude saw seldom few students frequenting the classrooms and dorms. Likely in the dining hall, preparing for dinner.  
Claude would join them, as soon as he changed both his clothes and his bandages. Felix had reopened a wound, but only a bit. More a scrape than anything else.

He passed by their newest transfer student, Petra, and gave her a wave. She waved back, rather enthusiastically, before practically skipping towards the dining hall. He’d never seen Petra skip before.  
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of walking, he reached his own dorm. It seemed the goddess or the universe or whatever governed the natural order had decided to take out their wrath upon him, as it was clear his dorm had been disturbed.

Paranoid, perhaps, but he marked the position of his doorknob every morning before he left. It was in a different position from when he’d last left.

Cautiously, Claude pushed open the door. Immediately, he was greeted with the scent of flowers. A new type of poison?

There was no assassin waiting for him beyond the door’s protection. Instead, all that awaited him was a vase of flowers in front of a small stack of wrapped parcels and a propped up letter.  
Claude counted sixteen flowers, all of different colors and varieties. One for each of his classmates and their professor. It wasn’t hard to piece together.  
He plucked the letter from his shelf and began to read. It was in Annette’s quick handwriting.

_We know you don’t like birthdays all that much, so we figured something small would make everyone happy!_   
_Happy birthday, Claude!_   
_\- The Blue Lions_

Beneath her script was the signature of everyone in the house, even the newest members. How Annette had even learned Claude’s birthday, let alone arranged an effort like this, he would never know.  
But he couldn’t find it in himself to be upset that they knew. Not when his heart swelled despite his denial.

He could sort through the small assortment of parcels, later. He would appreciate them each individually when he had the time to.  
For the time being, he changed out of his training clothes and made his way to the dining hall. His stomach demanded food.  
Everyone of the house was gathered at one table, laughing and talking. Claude slotted in with little to no effort, taking his seat between Petra and Dedue.  
A few smiles flashed his way. He returned each of them.

There was little use in denying his growing affection for the house. He was absolutely positive it could be seen in the smile on his face.


	14. Deadeye

How could he be missing it?

His housemates - no, his _friends_ \- were at the Holy Mausoleum, likely fighting for their lives, while he played card games against an already dozing Linhardt.  
Linhardt was possibly the worst choice for babysitter. Strong, yes. He could very easily ward off attackers or keep Claude subdued with force. That was, if he could keep himself awake for more than ten minutes.  
Claude was stuck throwing cards at a boy who simply wouldn’t wake. He’d even begun to snore, softly, as if in protest of Claude’s attempts.

If he truly wasn’t going to keep Claude company…

It was then that Claude had an idea. A stupid, risky, reckless idea that Ingrid would yell at him for. One that _could_ work.  
He would pin his bets on that _could._ He didn’t normally place all his eggs in one basket, but it seemed there was no other choice.

As quietly as he could, Claude pulled on his battle gear and strapped the new quiver Ingrid had gotten him to his back. Annette’s cloak pin worked wonders for the black fabric draping his shoulders.  
Grabbing Mercedes’s healing salve, Claude tiptoed out of the room, careful not to wake Linhardt. Everything he did may as well have been as loud as the clashing of swords. But mercifully, Linhardt did not stir.  
Claude rushed through the dorms, taking the stairs two steps at a time. Once out into the school, he ducked his head.

Cool night air hit his face, a welcome relief in his mad dash. He could smell food, special, he guessed, coming from the dining hall, accompanied by the scent summer nights always seemed to have.  
He ran. He weaved past milling students and knights, leaping over anything that could slow him down.  
He had to reach the Mausoleum, before he missed something important. Something big was going to happen. It would be more than just a petty squabble. Something was about to change the course of history, and he would never forgive himself if he missed it.

The thought of one of his friends losing their life for the Church sickened him.

Claude ran across the bridge to the cathedral. It seemed near endless as his feet pounded against the boards.  
He didn’t need to check where he was going. He’d memorized the layout of Garreg Mach in his first week.

He paused outside the cathedral doors, mind whirring with rapid fire arguments. He couldn’t just walk into the cathedral and into the Mausoleum. Not only would any worshippers look at him curiously, he would also lose the element of surprise in the inevitable battle. In his state, surprise was his most valuable weapon.

Making up his mind, Claude stepped back a few paces, looking at a ledge before him. It was just within reach.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Claude took a running leap. His fingers gripped onto stone. His arms screamed for him to let go.   
Claude pulled himself up onto the thin ledge, taking a moment to catch his breath. Felix would be so disappointed in him.

He reached up to the next ledge, climbing until he was on the roof. He was surprised no one saw him.

The roof of a building had never looked more blessed after a narrow climb. Claude took off, feet navigating the uneven terrain of the roof.   
His stomach was crying out for him to stop, to take a breath. Though his wound was mostly healed, ache was beginning to seep back in. It would likely reopen at any second.

Claude never did do what he was told.

He descended on the Holy Mausoleum, looking for a way in. He peered over the side, searching for any crack in the foundation.  
An open window near the roof looking in on a balcony. Unlocked. Easy access. The sounds of battle drifted through it.  
That must have been how they got in.

Claude grabbed the edge of the roof and swung himself into the window. He would have liked to say he landed on his feet, but that would be a blatant lie.

His arm ached from his landing. His entire right side echoed the same.   
He pulled himself up, crouching between the bars to peer out. 

The battle was in full swing. He could see his friends in their brilliant black, gold, and blue, fighting against those shrouded in black.

In the middle of the room was a stationary knight atop a horse. He seemingly had no plans to go anywhere and watched the chaos.  
Claude made a note to avoid him at all costs.

Dimitri was brute forcing his way through their ranks, closely followed by Teach. Ashe and Annette hung behind them, firing off spells and arrows. Petra trailed behind, protecting their flank.  
On the other side of the room, the one closest to Claude, the arrangement seemed to be similar. Dedue and Felix blazing a path, followed by Mercedes and Hapi, flanked by Yuri.  
The rest of the class stood at the entrance of the room, fighting off cavalry.

Claude got his bearings in enough time to see someone running towards Yuri. He pulled out his bow and notched his arrow, firing.  
There wasn’t time to see if his arrow landed, as he was already covering Constance while she prepared a giant spell. He could recognize the circles around her arms and feet. Whatever it was, it was going to be devastating.

His next shot bounced off the blade of an assailant. It gave Felix just enough time to notice the attacker before cutting them down.

Claude’s heart thrummed in his ears, pounding wildly against his ribcage. Something tasted metallic on his tongue.  
His own life wasn’t at risk. If he missed a shot, he would be fine. But if he missed a shot, one of his friends’ deaths would be on his head.  
He would not let his hands tremble. There would be time for thoughts like that later.

Instead, he fired another arrow, saving Ingrid from a nasty blow to the back of her head. It would have incapacitated her, if not killed her.  
Instead, she spun her lance in her hands to perfectly slice her opponent. Claude let out a relieved breath before moving on.

Things were getting out of control on the other side of his room. The farther away, the worse Claude’s aim got.

Claude ducked beneath the railing, hoping the bars would be enough of a cover for no one to notice him.   
The balcony spanned the length of the room, and just his luck. He made his way through as quickly and quietly as possible.

One of Claude’s arrows whizzed by Sylvain’s head, landing in the chest of an approaching swordsman.  
Sylvain’s head whipped around, trying to find the source of the arrow. Claude held his breath, as though that would help.  
Quickly, Sylvain was wrapped in another fight, leaving Claude free to protect Petra. She barely even seemed to notice his arrow.

Beneath him, the balcony began to rumble. Footsteps, lots of them. Claude was alone, confronted with what he guessed were a dozen rogues.

_Fuck._

Claude sheathed his bow and drew his sword, rising to his full height. He could see them, charging at him.

His wounds would reopen. He didn’t have the strength to fight them all off. But he had just enough to take a couple of them with him. 

It never came to that.

A gust of violent wind sent the intruders to the floor, each landing in a sickening crunch. One even landed on top of his comrade.  
Claude looked up to meet Linhardt’s eyes. Blood was splashed on his face, his skin was paler than a sheet. But upon seeing Claude, his gaunt expression eased. 

“What a bother. When you said the Lions have no self preservation skills, I wasn’t expecting it to be this extreme.” Linhardt yawned as he spoke. Claude grinned.  
“Neither do you. After all, you followed me here.”  
“I suppose I’m a Lion, now. How exhausting.” Linhardt stretched his arms to the sky.  
“Do you plan on helping me? Or would you prefer to keep complaining?”  
“Since I’m already here. It would be more hassle than it’s worth to escape a battlefield. Besides, I wouldn’t want to get in trouble for letting you die.”

Claude rolled his eyes. He sheathed his sword and pulled back out his bow.

“Your concern is overwhelming. Stay close and cover me. Your magic would be too noticeable, but my arrows have been getting me this far. Anyone else comes after us like that, you take care of them. And, hey,” Claude put his hand on Linhardt’s shoulder. “We’re all gonna make it out of this alive.”

Linhardt didn’t seem to have a witty remark for anything he said. Instead, he nodded, face taut.  
Claude crouched down once more, eyes scanning the battlefield.

Teach and Dimitri were at the casket at the back of the room, fighting someone in a strange mask.  
Never before had Claude seen a battlefield go deathly quiet when warriors on both sides still stood.

Claude looked back to the casket to see a confrontation between Teach and the masked mage.  
But something was different. The sword Teach held…

It couldn’t be.

He’d only seen it in books he’d salvaged from the library, both above and under ground. He’d only heard rumors of what it would be like.  
Yet there was no mistaking it.  
The Sword of the Creator.

The sharp intake of breath from beside him said Linhardt recognized it, too. It didn’t seem there was a person in the room who didn’t recognize it.  
Except for, perhaps, its new wielder.

Teach wielded it like a master. Like she’d been born to wield the Relic, and she’d finally come to claim her birthright.   
Perhaps she had.

Upon seeing their leader defeated, the rest of the group began to panic, scrambling for a way out.  
New figures entered from the normal entrance. The knight Catherine, backed by two soldiers. She said something inaudible to Claude’s ears and the two soldiers split up, clearly intending to wipe out the rest of the intruders.

“Well, what do you know…” Linhardt murmured.

If he said anything next, Claude didn’t catch it. The world had begun to spin around him. His hands shook, violently, he couldn’t keep a grip on his bow. Distantly, he heard it clatter to the wood.  
“Claude? Damn, you’ve overexerted yourself. I’d wager your wound is reopening, too.” Linhardt muttered.   
He slung Claude’s arm around his shoulder and pulled them both to their feet. His other arm went around Claude’s waist to support him.

“Lions really don’t have a shred of self-preservation,” Linhardt muttered, bitterly. “Hey! Lions!” He shouted.  
The next thing Claude could properly register was Ingrid’s face in front of his, her arm around his waist. Relieving Linhardt of his duty.

Ingrid was rather warm. Claude couldn’t help it when sleep took over.  
It didn’t matter that he was going to get a mighty lecture. All that mattered was that he’d saved his housemates, and witnessed history in the making.


	15. Fathers and Sons

Perhaps Claude had spoken a bit too soon about the mighty lecture not mattering. It was a lecture that had four people scolding him. Professor Manuela, Teach, Dimitri, and even Ingrid joined in.   
But, at the very least, he didn’t suffer through it alone. He couldn’t help but feel smug whenever he cast a glance over to Linhardt.

The patch job on his wound made him almost better than before he’d even gone into the Mausoleum, but the fact that he was fine didn’t dissuade anyone from the relentless yelling.

“What were you thinking?” Teach’s tone was icy. With the Sword of the Creator glowing at her side, he couldn’t help his flinch. He’d never seen her angry before.  
“I was thinking that you all were fighting and what if something happened that I could have prevented? Which, by the way, it did. If I wasn’t there, there wouldn’t be an empty bed in the infirmary.”

“Have more faith in us than that, Claude!” Ingrid snapped. For some reason, it angered him.  
“I saw an _axe coming towards your head_ , Ingrid!” Claude matched her tone, standing from his chair.   
“What?” Ingrid mumbled, eyes wide.

“There was someone behind you. They had an axe, they were going to bury it in your skull. I stopped that.”  
Claude sat back down in his chair with a huff, crossing his arms and turning his defiant stare on anyone in the room.

“You could have asked one of the knights. Or one of the other classes!” Dimitri still tried to argue, though his heart wasn’t in it.  
“They were all guarding other parts of the Monastery. There wouldn’t have been enough time to ask them and for them to deploy.”

Though it was clear his lecturers were still upset, they knew he was right.

Claude shuddered to think of the attacks he stopped. Ingrid’s skull caved in. Felix’s middle sliced open. Constance impaled on a spear.  
The images were enough to make him nauseous.

“Three weeks’ detention.” Teach ordered. “And...thank you. It was rash, but you did it as safely as you could and saved countless lives. Three weeks for disobeying orders from Professor Manuela in such a dangerous way, but less than usual for saving us.”

“Well, I agree with that assessment.” Linhardt stood to leave, but Teach stopped him.  
“Two weeks for letting this happen.” She reminded, sternly.  
Linhardt sighed, deeply. “Fine, fine. Two weeks.”

Linhardt left the room, Teach hot on his heels. Professor Manuela sent Claude a stern look before following them.  
Dimitri bent in front of Claude, more of that heartbreaking earnestness in his eyes.

“Please, don’t continue frightening us like this. You are our valued housemate and friend. We would be lost without you.”  
“Alright, your princeliness, no need to get soft on me.” Claude gently tapped Dimitri’s cheek as he spoke.

Dimitri stood and nodded. With a lingering glance at Claude, he finally left the room. Once again, leaving Claude with Ingrid. Claude stood, waiting for whatever was coming.  
“You promised me, Claude,” Ingrid’s voice was shaking. Her fists were, too.  
“I know, and I’m sorry,” _Why was he actually sorry?_ “But I didn’t have much of a choice. It was either break a promise or let you all get hurt.”

Ingrid grabbed Claude’s shirt and pulled him into a fierce hug. One Claude tentatively returned, resting his head against Ingrid’s.  
“Don’t die on me.”  
“I don’t plan on it.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

It wasn’t rare to find Felix brooding. It was more common than not, in fact. But there was something different to the brooding. It almost seemed...focused.  
Claude observed him from across the training ground. Oddly enough, his observation seemed to go unnoticed. Typically, Felix would at least glance towards whatever eyes had been placed upon him. But not today.

Today, he was decimating training dummies with more aggression than usual. Almost as though he had a special vendetta against the wood and straw.  
Finally, Claude could take it no more. Despite everything thrown his way, he couldn’t find it in himself to be apathetic about Felix. Damn his heart, he cared.

“Did trees do something to wrong you or do you have other problems?” Claude interjected. For the first time in all of knowing Felix, he startled.  
“Go away, Claude. I’m not in the mood for your prattle.”  
“Good, because I’m not in the mood for prattling.”

Felix snorted. “How very unlike you.”

“For the sake of the poor dummies who did nothing to deserve brutal deaths, you should probably tell someone what’s put lines between your brows. Not that I care, of course, but you’re hogging the space. People don’t exactly expect to lose a limb on the training grounds. You’re making them terrified they will.”

Felix dropped his arm clutching his sword and sighed. His eyes looked somewhere past Claude. Was that anxiety on his face?  
“My father is visiting the monastery,” The bile was clear in his voice.

Claude had met Duke Fraldarius when he laid claim to House Galatea, in fact, he met Felix at the same time. They had exchanged nearly no words with each other, focusing their attention on their hosts. Claude had wondered about that, then. This was certainly an explanation.

“Tough relationship?”  
“To put it lightly. I loathe him.”  
“Ah. Tough, indeed. So his being in the monastery would bother you terribly…” 

It was then that Claude was struck with an idea. An idea that could very easily cost him a finger, but he could fight with nine fingers.  
Claude held out his hand to Felix. Felix’s eyes narrowed in unbridled suspicion.

“So, don’t be at the monastery. I needed to get some things done in town, anyways. You could come along.”   
Felix’s eyes flicked between Claude’s face and outstretched hand for a moment, clearly calculating risks.

“I accept, but I will not take your hand.”  
Claude withdrew his hand, shrugging. “Not a problem. Meet me at the gates when you’ve finished the slaughter of dummy-kind.”

Claude left the training grounds and strolled, lazily, throughout the grounds of Garreg Mach.

The monastery was truly beautiful. With intricate stonework, high ceilings in enclosed spaces, stained glass in every classroom, it was a marvel to look at.  
They had nothing like it in Almyra.  
His thoughts drifted to his homeland more often than he would have liked. It was difficult not to, even if he’d been in Fódlan for a little under a year. Almyra was where he’d grown up.  
In every warm breeze, in every whiff of pine needle, in every clash of swords, he found himself longing for Almyra.  
Though, he had to admit, he missed it less and less these days. He missed his parents, of course. He missed the land.

But when he thought of the people, _his_ people, he didn’t think of Almyrans. He didn’t think of a sea of faces looking up at him from a balcony, or a bustling marketplace.  
He thought of a lion’s den.

Claude was drawn out of his contemplation by the call of his name, neutral in tone. It could only belong to one person.  
“Teach!” Claude wheeled around to face her. Cradled in one arm was a black cat, in the other, she held an envelope. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”  
“A messenger gave this to me earlier.”  
Teach handed over the envelope in her hand, her now free grip coming to stroke the cat. She nodded, satisfied, and walked away.  
“What an odd bird…” Claude’s brow furrowed as he watched her leave. He examined the envelope, curiously. Very few people ever wrote him letters.

His breath caught in his throat when he recognized the handwriting.

“You said you would wait at the gates.”  
“And I was going to,” Claude stuffed the letter in his pockets, looking directly into Felix’s gaze. “But my attention was desired, and who am I to say no?”  
“Don’t make me regret agreeing to this,” Felix groaned.

“Felix!” 

It was unmistakably Duke Fraldarius. Claude made it a point to memorize voices, and goddess, he was glad he did.  
Felix’s face drained of color, scowl forming on his face. No matter how much Felix liked to pretend otherwise, he was truly terrible at hiding how he felt. Dread and hatred shone through as clear as day.

Claude could change that.

“Run,” he mumbled. Felix’s expression faltered, once more locking eyes with Claude.  
“What?”  
“You heard me. Run!”

Claude grabbed Felix’s hand quicker than he could react and pulled him away, going full pace in his run. He knew Felix could keep up, if not outpace him.  
It would not be sightly for a Duke to chase after two teenagers, even if one was his son, so Claude knew very well that Rodrigue did not follow them. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the thrill of fleeing for a moment longer.  
Claude was surprised when Felix didn’t let go of his hand. Even more so when he glanced behind him to see Felix with the barest hint of a smile on his face.

Certainly worth the scene he caused, it seemed.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Spending time with Felix outside of the training grounds was...surprisingly fun. Never did Claude think he would describe time with Felix as _fun_ , unless he was tormenting him, of course. But it was fun.

Without the watchful eyes of nearly all future nobility, Felix loosened up. There was a tension in his shoulders that seeped away in favor of marveling at foreign blades. If Claude caught him scratching a stray dog’s ears, well. He definitely did not see it.

The letter weighed heavily in his pocket, as though it were a stone. But Claude attempted not to focus on it as he browsed the market’s election of various goods. He even caught sight of a few Almyran trinkets.  
He didn’t have the place for trinkets. Anything that served no purpose was quickly discarded. Or, so it used to be.  
He still had the chess piece Sylvain gifted him for his birthday, after all.

When he was certain Felix’s attention was diverted elsewhere, Claude slipped the merchant a few gold pieces in exchange for the trinket.

It was a simple charm, a painted silver coin hung on a silver chain. Usually given when to those who walked a path fraught with danger and darkness. A ward against coming evil.  
Though Claude didn’t believe that evil was coming his way, or that he would need a charm, it was still comforting to have. The familiar stamping on the currency, the patterns of the paint.  
A piece of home in a world so unlike what he’d known before.

Claude stepped away from the stall, slipping the chain over his head. He tucked it under his clothes just in time, as Felix looked his way. In his hand was a new, fairly expensive looking sword.  
Claude raised an eyebrow at the blade, but Felix shrugged.

“It’s getting late. The damnable Church will send knights after us if we don’t get back.”

He never thought he would admit it, but Felix was, indeed, correct. Though he wasn’t quite ready to confront the letter, it seemed he no longer had any choice in it.  
He didn’t know why he dreaded the contents. Perhaps because, whatever reason the sender had for the letter, he knew it wouldn’t be good.

His father never wrote to him randomly.

The plans he formed to rush back to his room and read it in private were cut short by Sylvain’s footsteps. Something was unreadable in his expression, and Claude didn’t much care for not being able to read him.

“You guys have to come to the classroom. We’re being briefed on this moon’s mission.”  
“Do you know something about it already?” Claude asked. Sylvain grimaced.  
“Yes. I’ve received word from my father about it. It’s...my older brother. He’s become a nuisance in Gautier territory and…” Sylvain trailed off, picking at a loose thread in his jacket.  
“You knew this day would come,” Felix’s voice was clear and strong. Clearly what Sylvain needed in that moment, as his resolve strengthened, as well.

“I did.” Sylvain met Claude’s eyes, steely determination inside them. “We have to kill my brother.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

_Khalid,_   
_Trouble has been brewing in Almyra. Assassins knock at my door near nightly._   
_Come home as soon as you can._   
_I may not be here when you return._


	16. Red and Yellow

After getting briefed by Teach on their upcoming mission, Sylvain disappeared to somewhere in the monastery. Claude followed after him, tracing every path he could think of to find him.  
Despite Sylvain’s insistence that he didn’t care about his brother, something didn’t quite sit well with Claude. Even if he hated Miklan’s guts, that was still his brother.

Claude found Sylvain by accident. He’d been headed towards his dorm when he spotted him, legs dangling over the dock of the fishing pond.  
His head was hung, intent on staring at his own reflection. The fisherman who ran the dock was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he’d heard the news and was letting Sylvain have his space. Maybe he didn’t see a point in staying when Sylvain was scaring the fish.

Claude strode to the deck, making his presence known with the sounds of his footfalls. Sylvain didn’t look up, still studying his features in the water.

“Mind if I join you?”  
“Go ahead,” Sylvain shrugged. His tone wasn’t convincing in its play at nonchalance.

Claude lowered himself to sit beside Sylvain, staring out at the pond. Much as he wanted to speak, spout some witty remark about Sylvain’s reflection, he kept his mouth shut. Sylvain would speak when he was ready.  
Instead, Claude felt around, hands brushing against a pebble. He tested the weight in his hand before flicking it across the water. It didn’t get far, but the few ripples it sent out were pleasing to the eye.

“I look like him. Miklan, I mean.” Sylvain muttered.   
Claude looked over at him, but Sylvain still hadn’t met his eyes. Staring at the similarities between him and his brother.  
“Not in everything. His nose is different and his eyes are narrower, and his jaw is a little thicker, but...we’re definitely brothers. The hair, alone, gives that away.” Sylvain sighed, his shoulders slumping even further.  
“My bets are on you wearing it better,”   
A smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, half sincere, half false. “Oh trust me, I do.”

“Look, it’s okay to be upset about this. You probably think you have to be tough about it, but no one expects you to. Even if you hate his guts, he’s still your brother.”  
“I’m not even upset about my brother. He may as well have died when I was born. Always bitter at me for something I couldn’t change. He hated me. I was just a kid trying to reach out to my big brother. It just kills me to think...that could’ve been me.”  
“No, it couldn’t have.”

For the first time, Sylvain looked at him, surprise widening his eyes.  
“But I could’ve easily been born without a Crest!”  
“True. But you’re still a younger brother. If Miklan had been born with a Crest first, things would’ve been different. And even if the roles were perfectly switched, you the older brother without one and him the younger brother with one, I can’t see you despising a kid. Especially your little brother. That’s too cruel for your tastes.”

Sylvain gazed at him for a long moment, clearly mulling over his words.  
“You might be right. What kind of a bastard hates his five year old brother?”  
“Certainly not the bastard sitting next to me.”  
“You calling me a bastard?”  
“I meant what I said, Red.” Claude flashed a lazy grin. Sylvain attempted to return it, but it faltered. “Alright, alright, c’mere,” Claude pulled Sylvain down by his shoulders, rubbing his upper arm in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

“This has gotta be ruining some sort of front you put up,” Sylvain muttered, darkly.  
“Eh, let it be ruined. I’m not gonna have you dying on the mission because I didn’t wanna give you a hug or something.”

Sylvain let a comfortable silence fall over them while Claude retreated into his thoughts, pondering something that had been bothering him for a while.  
“When did _you_ become my best friend?”

It had to be true. Ashe, Annette, Ingrid, all the Lions meant the world to him, a new and strange feeling he didn’t know if he’d ever be used to. But Sylvain, for some unknown reason, had wormed his way into Claude’s heart first.

Sylvain raised his head from Claude’s shoulder, looking offended.  
“Why’d you emphasize ‘you’ like that? What’s wrong with _me_?”  
“Everything and nothing, Red, that’s why I’m still around,”  
Finally, after what seemed like hours on the dock, Sylvain cracked a smile. It caused crinkles at the corners of his eyes, alighting his irises.

All in all, a successful mission.

~*~*~*~*~*~

If he was saddled with any other professor, he would’ve been concerned as to how in the blazes he would pull this off. But he had Teach.   
It almost seemed she could see through into someone’s soul, see their sincerity and their falsehoods. She would know this was important.

The retreat of the sun had cooled the monastery significantly, though this did not sway the bugs chirping in every piece of greenery.   
It was a rare night to not be buffeted by rain. Instead, the stars were clearer than ever, the moon ever shining.

Claude knocked on the door to her quarters, hoping she wasn’t already asleep. The best time to ask for favors was certainly not when you’d just woken someone from sleep. But it couldn’t wait much longer.  
Thankfully, when she opened the door, her eyes were bright and she still wore her clothes. Sleep showed no sign of even entering her mind. 

“Claude? What are you doing here?” She asked, only the faintest hint of curiosity in her otherwise blank voice.  
“Hey, Teach. I know it’s really late, but it can’t exactly wait more time than it needs to. I...need a favor.” 

Asking for favors so openly was not Claude’s strong suit. But smooth talking didn’t get far with Teach, it never did. It didn’t work for anyone in the class, let alone Claude, with his reputation of weaseling information.  
“Come in,”

Teach cleared the doorway to let him inside. Claude nodded as he entered, brushing past Teach. He caught the scent of lilies on her.

Claude had rare opportunities to be inside anyone’s room other than his own, let alone his professor’s. It revealed more about her than anything she said.  
Books were neatly stacked on her shelves, her journal was open on her desk. Though he didn’t read it - he had some class - her script was almost curt, uniform.   
Her bed was tightly made, her belongings arranged in a way he could tell was deliberate. Though what way that was, it was unknown to him.

“Please, sit,” Teach gestured to her bed, taking a seat on her chair. Claude did as he was told, albeit stiffly.  
Teach stared at him, impassive. Waiting for him to elaborate. Very rarely did she prompt more than her unending gaze.

“I would like to request time off. I have to go to Derdriu. Family business.” His sentences were too stilted for his liking.  
“Isn’t your family from Faerghus?” Teach asked. Claude didn’t let it show how his heart caught in his throat.

“My mother’s side of the family is. I was raised in my father’s homeland.” He neglected to mention that his homeland was not Leicester.   
“Something’s come up on that side of the family and I can’t ignore it. I’ll take whatever extra work you want to give me, I don’t mind. I just ask that you find it in your heart to let me take a few days to go. I’ll be back before the mission, I promise.”

He wouldn’t miss the mission for the world. Not only to help his classmates, but to see the Lance of Ruin, as well. He’d heard a few members of House Galatea speak of the Lance, and he had to admit, it more than piqued his curiosity.

“Would you like someone to accompany you?”  
“No!” It was blurted before he could stop it. Teach blinked. Somehow, a blink could be pointed, and she’d figured out how. “No, thank you. It’s private business, anyone else getting involved would only make it messier.”   
Even beyond a personal note, if one of his friends got wrapped up in an assassination plot, it could be taken out on them. That was simply unacceptable.

Teach nodded. “Very well. You will have an extra day’s worth of work waiting for when you return.”  
It was a light sentence, and one he couldn’t be more grateful for.  
“Thank you, Teach. Really, I appreciate it more than you know.” Claude stood, heading to the door. “I’ve taken up enough of your night, already. I’ll head out, but...thanks.”

“Wait, Claude,” Teach rose from her chair. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”  
Did she know? Had she always known? Or was it an oddly timed reminder?

Nevertheless, Claude nodded and flashed what he hoped was a convincing smile. “I know, Teach. Thanks. For...all this. Sleep well.”  
He didn’t waste another moment. With a slight nod to Teach, he left her room, stepping back out into the summer night. 

Better than he’d expected.


	17. All the More Reason

The short trip to his dorm felt as though it lasted an eternity. A new weariness settled into his bones, soul deep and utterly consuming.  
The sight of his door nearly made him cry out in relief. If he shoved the books off his bed, he could collapse and sleep for a thousand years. Or perhaps he didn’t need to shove the books away.

This dream was short lived.

Claude opened his door to the flash of a blade in the moonlight. He dropped to the floor, kicking the attackers feet. It wasn’t enough to knock them over.

Damn his sluggishness. He still needed to rebuild his stamina.  
Any second, adrenaline would set in. It seemed it would be too late.

Claude scrambled backwards, back out to the hallway. The assassin followed, brandishing their blade.  
Claude hit the wall. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest.

No, no, no, no, no. This could _not_ be happening. He could not be about to die. Not yet.

The assassin brought down their blade. Claude rolled out of the way. It broke the floorboard.  
Someone had to notice. No one was _that_ deep of a sleeper. And certainly not everyone was asleep.

The assassin was barreled over. Their sword clattered to the ground.  
Claude grabbed the hilt of the sword and rushed to his feet. He tried to process, tried to think.

It was Dimitri. Dimitri was grappling with the assassin, holding them by their shoulders. He looked like a beast.  
Claude didn’t have time to consider. Didn’t have time to think.

He shoved Dimitri off of the assassin and buried the sword in their chest. They cried out in sick, gurgling pain.  
Claude stepped back, sword leaving his grip. Dimitri looked up at him, eyes wide.

“What was that about?” He was out of breath when he spoke.  
“How about we talk about that after we get rid of our friend here?” Claude replied.  
“I think now is possibly the best time, considering there could be another assailant lying in wait.”

Claude held out a hand, which Dimitri took. Claude helped his savior to his feet and looked down at the body of the assassin.  
“I’m not sure who, but we should definitely tell someone about this.”  
“Professor Byleth, perhaps. Or Seteth! Maybe even Lady Rhea…” Dimitri listed off possibilities, his question seemingly forgotten. His attention was not so easily grabbed, this Claude knew for certain.  
“Maybe all of the above, though Teach might suffice. We could probably leave it to her to decide who to tell.”  
“She _would_ know more about this field than either of us…” 

Claude had gotten quite good at reading the facial expressions of his classmates, and the expression Dimitri wore said that he was thinking about too many things all at once. Claude liked to call it his ‘king face’.

“Exactly. You go report to Teach while I ask everyone in the dorm why they didn’t come out to help.”  
“Oh, I believe there’s something happening in the dining hall tonight drawing everyone’s attention. I had a headache so I left before the festivities.”  
“Never thought I would say this, but praise the powers that be for your headaches, your princeliness. Or I’d have a whole-body ache right now.”

Dimitri smiled, features easing for a moment. “I have to say, I agree.” His brows furrowed once more, concern clouding his eyes. “You aren’t hurt, are you?”  
“No, thanks to you. Came in the nick of time.”  
Claude slapped Dimitri’s shoulder.  
“Am exhausted though, so let’s wrap this up quickly.”

He knew what he had to do.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The tavern in Derdriu was crowded and baudy, typical for a summer night in the aquatic capital. Mismatched singing, vague threats, crashing of tables and glasses, all wafting through open windows out into the busy streets.  
The smell of ale drenched the very foundations, nearly making Claude drunk just by walking in.  
“Jeez, what kind of place is this for her to pick?” Claude mumbled.

There was one empty booth in the corner, shadowed by the slope of the ceiling. It was the perfect spot.

He slid into the booth and waited, hands clasping together and untangling. It shouldn’t have made him as nervous as it did, and yet…  
As soon as the thought entered his mind, Aaliyah slid into the booth. She flashed him a dangerous smile.

“Well, now you are far from home,” she drawled.  
“According to my mother, I’m _exactly_ home.”  
“What did you need to see me for?”  
“Straight to business, Aaliyah, I’m surprised at you!”  
“I have somewhere to be.” Her tone was too clipped for a casual statement. Claude could use this.  
He slapped on a rakish grin and leaned forward.

“Hot date?”  
“Yes, actually,”

Claude blinked, surprised at her honesty. “Fair enough. I won’t keep you long. I just need you to deliver a message back to my folks. I only got a few days away from the monastery, I can’t stay out much longer.”  
And more than that, he wasn’t ready to go back to Almyra yet. His work was not done, and he had to admit, the thought of leaving his friends with no warning felt wrong.

Aaliyah clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “What has Fódlan done to you, my friend?”  
“Allowed me to have a heart,” Claude presented a letter right in front of her face. “Will you do it or not?”  
Aaliyah’s eyes shifted between him and the letter for a long moment. Finally, she plucked the letter from his hand and stuffed it into her cloak.

“Only because you’re my prince.”  
“Not your friend?”  
“I’m still deciding. I will leave tomorrow.”  
“That’s all I ask.”   
“Be seeing you, _Claude_ ,” she spat his chosen name with vitriol. 

Aaliyah had never approved of Claude leaving Almyra. She was proof enough of why he had to.

She slipped out of the booth and strode out. Despite being an attractive woman in a pub full of drunken men, no one looked her way. Her natural ability to fade away, coming into play.  
Claude sat back in his seat a moment, contemplating.

What had Fódlan done to him? Given him his first real friends who didn’t care who he was. He was not a prince or an outcast to them. He was Claude, the classmate who’d saved their necks.  
In his gut, he knew they’d find out. It would be bad. But for as long as he had them, he would enjoy it.

Claude stood from the booth, leaving a few coins on the table for the interruption in service, and left the tavern, back out into the warm night air.


	18. Monster

The tension in the group was near tangible as they climbed the steps to the top of the tower.   
No one wanted to address it, yet they all knew what was coming.

Claude sincerely wished he could be atop a wyvern for all these stairs. It reminded him of the palace in Almyra, but somehow much worse. Perhaps because when he walked up the steps of the tower, he would be faced with a battle, rather than...a battle.  
Maybe it wasn’t much different after all.

Claude kept an easy stride beside Constance, who mumbled under her breath with a worrying gleam in her eyes. Though, he supposed, everything about Constance was somewhat worrying.  
As if proving his point, she grinned and excitedly clapped her hands. “Perfect! I have the perfect incantation to perplex our foes!”  
“I think the end goal is to impale them, not perplex them.” Claude pointed out.  
“Aha, and it will be much easier to do so if they are in a dazed state!”  
Claude raised a brow, inquisitively. “Oh? In that case, what do you have in mind?”

Constance’s grin widened even further, and for a moment, Claude regretted asking. But her following rant was something bordering on fascinating, and drew the attention of several wearied students. He supposed it served its purpose.  
It even got Sylvain to glance their way. That, in and of itself, was a miracle. How much of his interest was feigned, it was hard to say, but anything was better than nothing.

Before reaching Conand Tower, Sylvain had spoken as he normally did. But as soon as they began taking the long, winding stairs, he said precious little, eyes focused ahead.

Stopping Constance’s rant mid-sentence, Teach raised her hand, cautiously drawing her sword with the other.  
“Prepare for battle.” She ordered.

Beneath the shuffling amongst the group and the sting of steel, Claude could hear what she’d heard. Footsteps, voices, and sounds that mirrored their own.

Teach began issuing orders, of who would split off where. Claude was assigned Hapi and Petra, one to watch their backs and heal them, the other to pave their way. He had to appreciate Teach’s base tactics.  
Just as the last order left her mouth, thieves charged them. Claude glanced around his group, getting one last look at his friends, before he was plunged into the fray.

Petra did a good job of covering them, with Hapi shooting intermittent spells, Claude firing arrows left and right.  
Some still slipped through.

For that, Claude relied on his footwork. All that time spent on the training ground, testing near impossible shots, seemed to pay off.  
Claude leapt from the ground, in time to miss a ball of fire. Claude notched an arrow and loosed. It landed in the throat of Hapi’s would-be attacker.

Petra’s cry of pain rang out, unnervingly clearly.  
“Hapi, go!” Claude shouted. Defiance burned in her eyes, but she moved past him, carving a path to Petra. Two more arrows saved them both from nasty wounds.  
He only had a moment to watch Hapi heal Petra, but it was enough. The warm glow of magic reached even him. It was fascinating.

 _Faith comes in more forms than religious._  
Linhardt had told him that over a moon ago. Though it had been pushed to the back of his mind, it never truly left.  
Perhaps he could ask Teach to let him learn white magic.

He didn’t have much more time to think, as another bandit came rushing for his head. Claude dropped into a roll, shooting from the ground. It was only a split second that he had to fire, but his aim was true.

“We must be following the Professor!” Petra cried.  
“Right you are!”

Ahead was Teach, fighting ferociously with Annette and Ashe by her side. If Claude squinted, he could see Dimitri even further, his freakish strength coming in handy once again.  
Hapi ducked behind Claude, firing off a spell from the cover he provided. If he wasn’t concerned with a million other things at once, he would resent it. As it was, he was more relieved she was safe.

“Claude! Jump!”

Claude did as he was instructed without thinking. He used the momentum to flip in the air, shooting behind his back. A slash just barely missed his legs.  
Magic flew around his eyes, clouding his vision. All he could hear were the clash of weapons and the cries of pain. Prayerfully, none of them would be familiar.  
Their assigned trio cut a path through the brigands. In those brief moments, the only coherent thought Claude could string together was _protect them._

And he did.

An arrow here, a kick there. Anything to save his own skin, along with Petra’s and Hapi’s.   
He used the brute force of his steel bow to knock an assailant unconscious. Not a tactic he normally used, but that was the core of Teach’s lessons.  
Stay alive by whatever means necessary.

Petra cleared a path for Claude and Hapi. Hapi covered their flank dutifully, black and dark magic melding together in a swirl. Claude shot whoever he could.  
Petra dodged an attack. She left an opening. Claude fired.  
He would run out of arrows soon.

Claude pulled arrows from the corpse of an archer, slotting them into his own quiver. He didn’t like the taste it left in his mouth. As was the nature of battle.  
Ahead, Claude could finally set eyes on Miklan. He saw two shocks of red hair, going toe to toe, one wielding a lance of shining steel, the other a wicked lance that seemed to glow.

Brother killing brother. Claude could only hope Sylvain would be the killer. How macabre he’d become.

He couldn’t hear what was being said. He could only watch with rapt horror as something began changing from the glowing lance in Miklan’s hand.  
Black matter appeared from the lance. Miklan began to scream as it enveloped him. His form twisted, his scream echoed.  
Claude’s heart dropped into his stomach.

No. No, no, no, no.

He’d left them in Almyra. They weren’t supposed to be here. Why were they in Fódlan? Why was this happening?  
Claude, Petra, and Hapi broke formation, rushing towards the line the others had formed.

It was different than what Claude had known. But the hollow eyes that looked out at him were the same.  
How was that Miklan? How could that thing have once been a man?

Sylvain stumbled back into Dimitri’s range. Dimitri’s arm shot out to pull him back into their ranks.  
He brushed against Claude. Claude held Sylvain’s shoulders until they locked eyes. He hoped he could convey his warnings and sympathies in just a glance.

Miklan’s men had already fled the scene. Some loyalty they had, though Claude couldn’t blame them. He wanted nothing more than to join their retreat.

“I can’t believe it...Miklan…” Sylvain mumbled, eyes once more transfixed on the monster his estranged brother had become.

It was hard to look away, yet it was hard to focus on it. Claude had seen monsters before, but none that he knew to be human. None he had seen change with his own two eyes.  
“This is different from anything I’ve seen before…” He mumbled. Sylvain hissed through his teeth, as though hearing him, but did not look at him.

Claude readied an arrow, finally releasing his hold on Sylvain’s shoulder. Sylvain adjusted his grip on his lance.  
Glowing yellow barriers appeared around the creature’s body, forming shields. That was new.

“Claude, Ashe! Break through the shields from afar!” Teach, ever unshakeable, gave the order.

Despite how rattled he felt to his core, Claude obeyed, loosing his arrow. The barrier cracked like glass. The creature let out a roar.  
Ashe followed up, shattering the barrier.

“Everyone who can, attack!” Teach ordered.

It was a surge of stomping feet and gleaming blades, over before Claude could even notch another arrow. It had all happened far too quickly, he could barely see a thing.

He saw the final blow.  
He saw the shock of red who was responsible.

Sylvain stepped back, his lance near falling out of his grasp. His eyes were trained on the monstrous figure, the black peeling away to reveal the crumpled form of Miklan.  
Who still clutched the Lance of Ruin.

Claude stowed away his bow and carefully weaved around his classmates, coming to a stop at Sylvain’s side.  
“Can you...not talk for a minute?” Sylvain mumbled. His voice was weaker than Claude had ever heard.  
“I wasn’t going to.”  
Claude fell silent once more, allowing Sylvain to do what he needed. He grabbed hold of Claude’s hand, staring still at the body.  
As the rest of their class regrouped and licked their wounds, Claude carried out his silent vigil beside Sylvain, retreating into his own thoughts.

He had seen monsters. But this one had sprung from the Lance of Ruin, a terrible darkness Claude knew would haunt his sleeping hours.  
He had a few questions for the esteemed Church, and doubted he would easily get the answers.  
Claude always loved a challenge.


	19. To Abyss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. It's been a while. I've been in such a deep writer's block, so apologies if this isn't the most riveting. But I promise, I have a bit of a direction now, and I think this fic is gonna be a bit longer than I thought. Still, I hope you enjoy!

The library beneath Garreg Mach made all others pale in comparison. 

It was dingy, broken down, and certainly smelled like more than a few bodily fluids. If Claude dared to step on any number of the broken stairs, he would surely fall through, straight to the floor. Possibly into another tunnel even further below.

Claude was in love.

It was remote and discreet, for one thing. Very rarely was anyone inside, and if they were, it was a mutual agreement to never pry into another’s business. It was an agreement all of Abyss settled on.  
And he could understand well enough why.  
Every tome in the library was more fascinating than the last. Banned books, rare volumes, lost diaries. If one didn’t mind water damage and must, and the unshakable smell Abyss carried, it was a treasure trove.  
The only problem was Yuri.

Yuri clearly didn’t want Claude wandering the hollow halls of Abyss, and he couldn’t fully figure out why. He always seemed to be chasing Claude out whenever Claude dared to show his face.

Claude was determined this time, even more than usual. He had to know more about the mysteries behind the Crests, the Relics, everything.   
He had to know what happened to Miklan.

Claude was growing quite comfortable with the tunnel down to Abyss. He had found one hidden by the stables, when helping Ingrid groom the pegasi. Teach had said he could use flying experience. As though he hadn’t been practically born atop a wyvern.  
A hidden passageway into the murky depths below the pristine symbol of Seiros. There was something novel about it.

Claude slid open his bedroom window, tossing his length of rope to the ground below. Though he’d made worse jumps, how would he explain it if something went wrong and he broke his legs?  
Claude strapped his bow to his back, sliding his sword onto his belt. One could never be too careful when going to Abyss.  
Slinging his legs out the window, Claude gripped onto the rope and began to slide down. If he touched the wall, there would be hell to pay from the student he awoke. Whoever that was.  
It didn’t take long before he hit the ground.

The nighttime air was beginning to chill as autumn settled into the mountains of Garreg Mach. It had never truly gotten as hot as Almyra, yet some of the northerners still complained of the heat.  
Even staying for a year in the southernmost reaches of Faerghus, Claude could get a fairly decent idea of what they were used to. He couldn’t say he blamed them.

Claude turned. His heart leapt out of his chest, thudding hard into his ribcage. A yelp escaped his throat before he could stop it.  
A head of blinding white hair. Shining, bright eyes glaring at him. An impatient foot tapping against the grass.

“Lysithea! What a pleasant surprise!” Claude tried to cover his shock.  
“What are you doing awake?” She wasted no time, her accusatory tone clearer than anything else.  
“I could ask the same of you! This is no hour for young ladies!”  
“I am not a child, Claude. Now I demand to know why you’ve been sneaking out every night.” 

How had she noticed? Her room was nearly on the other side of the dorms.  
“You wanna know? If you promise not to tell anyone, I could take you there. Easier if I show, you understand.”   
Claude was banking on something he knew about Lysithea. She was _terrified_ of the dark. He had to pray her courage only lasted long enough for her to confront him. He could see her jittering, even in the darkness.

“T-Tonight? It c-can’t wait until t-tomorrow?” She stammered, her defensive stance faltering. _Jackpot._  
“Yep. I can only go at night. You coming or not?”  
“No! I’m going to tell Professor Byleth! Maybe even Seteth!”  
“Oh, please do. But first you’ll have to explain the case of the missing dolls. How many do you have, two? Seven?”

All pretenses dropped. He’d hit the nail dead on.  
“You’re such a jerk!” She stamped her foot into the ground, fists balled.  
“Oh, I know. Want me to walk you back to your room, princess?”  
“I’m coming with you to make sure you don’t cause any trouble. Any _more_ trouble, I suppose.”

 _Fuck._ That backfired rather tremendously. Had to save face. Don’t let her in.   
_Don’t let anyone in._

“Follow me. And whatever you do, stay quiet.”  
Lysithea nodded, barely focusing on him. Her eyes were too busy darting around to search for anything lurking in the dark. Given that, on one of these outings, Claude had spotted Hubert, he wouldn’t be surprised.  
That encounter still terrified him more than anything else had.

Claude pushed past Lysithea, motioning for her to follow him. He could hear her footsteps over his own. She hadn’t practiced stealth as he so easily had.  
Each step she took was another nail into his eardrums. He wanted to scream at her, to tell her in no uncertain terms that stealth was key.

The irony of his desire was not lost on him.

The tunnel was just ahead, hidden between a loose stone and a slightly overgrown bush that the avid gardeners of the student body had never tended to. He hoped it would remain in that state.  
Claude lightly shoved the branches away to reveal the tunnel downwards, illuminated only faintly by distant torches.   
However, the torch was overshadowed. A figure stood in front of the passageway, blocking the entrance.

“Good evening.” The figure greeted.  
“A G-G-G-GHOOOOOOOOST!” Lysithea shrieked. When Claude glanced back at her, she was already darting away.

“Well, that stings.” The deadpan remark drew Claude’s attention back to the Abyssian tunnel.  
Yuri blocked the way, a rather stern expression on his face that didn’t quite suit him.   
“Well, now. It’s a little late for lion cubs to be awake.” Yuri purred, batting his lashes.  
“I could say the same about mockingbirds.”

Yuri’s painted lips pursed.  
“As much as I have fun playing little games with you, I need answers more than I need banter. Why do you keep sneaking into Abyss after I’ve explicitly told you not to? What could be gained by such a promising young noble?”  
“I could lie to you, but with those eyes of yours, I doubt you’d believe it. I’m after knowledge, plain and simple. I have secrets I need to uncover. Surely you can understand that?”  
“Knowledge in the hands of someone like you is more dangerous than a sword in the hands of a general. Why would I willingly allow that when I’m not sure I can trust you?”

Claude understood Yuri all too well. How frustrating.

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to earn your trust.”  
A smirk curved onto Yuri’s face, a single brow rising to his hairline.  
“Oh really? And how do you plan to accomplish that?”  
Claude wagged his finger in front of Yuri’s face, noticing that Yuri’s eyes stayed trained on his face.  
“Ah, ah, ah. That’s for me to know, and for you to find out. I’ll get your trust. Besides, I can’t deny how much I’d like to have the Savage Mockingbird on my side. You never know when such an ace could come in handy.”

For a moment, all Claude could do was hold Yuri’s gaze. Until he remembered, sadly, he was on business.  
He let out a sigh and rested his hand on his forehead. Allowed his defenses to drop, just a second, to let Yuri see his sincerity.

“But, this time it isn’t for me. It’s for Gautier. I...want to figure out what happened to his brother. He was so broken up about it, I couldn’t stand it.”  
Yuri’s gaze softened. His shoulders loosened.  
“You’re either the best actor who’s ever lived, or you’re being sincere. Either way, you’ve put in enough work for tonight. But I’m putting Hapi on watch. If you take something, she’ll sigh.”  
A bolt of fear shot through his stomach.   
“Note taken. Thank you, Yuri.” Claude placed his hand over his heart and bowed. When he righted himself, there was a tint of color to Yuri’s face.

“Just don’t get yourself in trouble with the things you learn. Keep everything quiet, you got that?”  
But Yuri was already stepping out of the entryway, allowing Claude inside.

Claude nodded as he passed by, stepping into the dim light of Abyss. 

_Don’t let anyone in._  
A bit late for that.


End file.
